Prison of Pearls
by fights
Summary: Bruce comes clean instead of Harvey Dent and Bruce Wayne is captured. Will Batman be enough of a cruel hero in order to save Bruce Wayne, or will he succumb to the Joker, against the Jokers greedy whims, like virgin pearls to swine? JokerxBruce SLASH
1. 01 Pearl White

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Batman not profit with teh moneys from this. But I wrote this fanfic. orz

**Prison of Pearls**  
_Chapter One:  
Pearl White_  
By Ol' Fighty

-

My beta is the awesome Crush-Zombie,  
whose re-drawing into a motivational poster  
of the "boner" comic strip is too motivational

-

_"I am Batman."_

A solid voice.

The voice of reason, steeled and steadied by justice, that had cautioned him sternly the night he had almost lost his mind.

Always hidden from him in the darkness, hanging over, arms reaching over the back of his shoulders.

Harvey Dent's stepped back, his body sinking slightly.

He gulped, eyes widened as the crowd pulled away from Bruce Wayne like oil from water.

Bruce stood alone, chin raised. Resolute.

Arms folded behind his back, one hand gripping his wrist, face mature. The carefree playboy guise slipped off, an ice cold chill began exude from his statuesque form. His eyes stared forward into nothing for a brief moment and then up at Dent, no smile to tease the man with or contort the collected expression. "I am Batman. Arrest me."

The ordinary citizens of Gotham stumbled away, disbelief and fear on their faces. The was a soft mumble of spoken thoughts. He had fooled them all, fooled them all with his happy attitude, his frivolous and shameful lifestyle. Now someone else seemed to take the place of the childish elite, someone who everyone followed in gossip magazines was the same man the read about in the newspaper the next morning.

Bruce Wayne raised his hands up, the police and security still eyed him. A questioning gaze, they seemed lost without Gordon's barks. The first police officer steeped forward, carefully. Bruce shoved his hands forward causing the man to jump. Noticing this, Bruce quickly folded his arms behind his back, turned around and waited. Then pressing his body further into the wall when the man still quaked, cuffs in hand.

"I'm sorry," the policeman trembled, he looked young. His head bent down, not really paying attention to what he was actually doing, arresting Batman.

"I know," Bruce replied. The cold metal now wrapped around his wrists.

"Bruce Wayne, you are under arrest for acting as the masked vigilante known as Batman." Followed a deeper voice, the rest of the toy police acted. They moved in a mechanical way, reaching deep until unearthing the drills they repeated in training. The room exploded in light, cameras flashing, microphones pushing forward. The Press wound tightly around the circle of police, Bruce winced.

"Don't touch him!" The Joker screeched, shoving a reporter to the ground. His clowns sliding away from him on all sides to force those who had not manage to dash to an exit blocked by clowns. Again, even the police scattered from Bruce who gripped at his chains.

"Everyone drop your weapons, my penis..." A roll of the hand by his wrist, the Joker looked back in his head before finding the words, "is clearly bigger than all of y'alls."

The Joker looked absolutely radiant. Purple suit cleaned. Hair 'tidied.' Practically walking on air, if not the pads of his feet.

His head screwed, facing the rolling camera. "OH THE NEWS! I LOVE BEING ON TELEVISION! Is this LIVE? Please-film-_eve~r~rey~thing_!"

The cameraman's adjusted his camera, a small sob in his throat.

"Noooow," the Joker spun as if he were the heroine in the Sound of Music, "where-is-Bat-MAN?"

"I'm here," Bruce shifted against the wall, pulling away from the police hoping "no more dead cops" would ring true.

"Oh." His green eyes paused, dilated for a moment as they glazed over the man who he had never met as a human.

The Joker stood frozen.

His fingers curled into a fist.

And gripped until his glove chirped.

The clowns stood sternly, menacing away anyone's thought about playing the hero. Guns pointed at women and the elderly.

When the Joker finally spoke, he seemed uncollected and winded. "What is your name, you lovely thing?"

"Bruce." Bruce stated, dully.

"**BRUCEY**, _ah_." A breathy exhale. The 'ah' rolled, the wheels in under green mop rolling. He looked up in his head, inquisitive, but partially confused too. "No last name."

"WAIT! _Is this--?_"

The Joker threw a giddy punch that pulled back to his hip, he jumped animated once more.

"**IS THIS!**"

He swung a foot in the air and a did a huge double kick.

"_IS THIS IT!_"

His hands flitted over his mouth that mouthed as he walked in a quick circle saying, _'oh my god'_ several times.

Bruce turned his face as the Joker looked at him across the room like he wasn't looking at him and then muttered a string of words, which looked like plotting but was probably... Something else.

"DENT HEAD!" Joker finally shouted across the silent room and then flinched when it echoed. The Joker shook the sound out of his ears and continued: "IS THIS BRUCE WAYNE?!"

The forgotten man looked distraught. Bruce Wayne being Batman and the Joker crashing the press conference. He took another look at Bruce Wayne, disbelief and expectations crushed. Harvey helplessly replied. "Yes."

"You're **BRUCE WAYNE**!" The bellow of excitement burst with a waving, jagged finger point. The Joker nearly slapped himself over just hitting his forehead, then his hand swung and opened up the way a gentleman would when taking a maidens hand into his own. The other pressed to his heart. The leader of the clowns stalked over to Bruce, he remained still to isolate himself from the crowd and pressed into the way as the Joker grabbed his chin. He examined the chin, rubbing his thumb over it and looked up into Bruce's dark eyes.

Bruce caught the Joker turning his head with a soft look in his eyes. "Sorry about _crashing_ your party a while back, no hard feelings?

"_Right_...? are you really as stupid as the tabloids say? Are you shy? Hoist by your own retard, aren't you?"[**1**]

"I can't say that I wasn't a little _irritated_," Bruce knew he would probably get killed or maimed, but that was the least terrible thing he could imagine the Joker doing.

"**Cute**." The Joker smiled, as if he were a teacher and Bruce was a 5 year old. Index and thumb pinching air like a cheek. "Cute. Cute. Cute. Like a mole-rat, or a bat."

The Joker's eyes were crawling all over Bruce, rolling over the pristine suit and the clean face. His hand pressed against Bruce's shoulder, pushing him closer to the wall.

"You're so _preeetty_," His weird voice straining the sound into words, the Joker's tongue rolled right to left across his lips, his scarred smile resealing with smack. The Joker tilted his head that seemed to sink into his purple shoulders like an inquisitive bird, a weird suck-clack sound and side hop closer brought him to Bruce Wayne's movie star face.

Cheek so pressed against jaw that the human warmth had begun to suction white make-up onto Bruce's skin. The creme dissolved into a melting mash of sweat, slime and grime smearing downwards as the Joker rubbed cheek to cheek, a hum of euphoria reverberating in his throat. Bruce could practically feel the Joker's eyes rolling in his head and his head tilted back, a weird possession taking over the purple-green clown.

"Ahaa~_aa_—" The madman exhaled, rotten breath floating over Bruce's nostrils. "Your skin is so perfect. It's so soft, how do you have such perfect skin after staying up all night."

A vicious thumb push downwards on Bruce's chin forced the display of the vigilante's white teeth sitting in perfect rows.

"Your teeth are so _pearl white_." Bruce complied, defeated, but still slightly defiant. Eyes meeting, a twitch of a smile at the corner of the Joker's mouth. "You're really so flawless."

"**Stay**." The Joker raised his finger, he turned and walked to a clown holding two guns.

"Alone time! **I NEED ALONE TIME**, excuse me." His finger's pried a machine gun from one of the clown's hands, "WITH **THE BATMAN**," he lifted the gun and let a fee bullets rattle the ceiling, dusting the his purple suit with white wall chalk. "ANYONE STILL HERE WHEN ALONE TIME STARTS WILL BE SHOT!"

His gun unloaded into a nearby clown. And he enunciated, eyebrow raised. "Mrm, I'm serious. I mean everyone."

The room unloaded as fast as possible, clowns pushing past the pedestrians, men grabbing the arms of the elderly, hurrying them along. The police gave pitying glances at the unmasked crusader before exiting behind the press. Harvey Dent passed by Bruce quickly. His eyes looked deep within Bruce's a mix of deep hurt and worrying. He skittered out, a policeman pressing a hand to his back to usher the DA to safety.

A curious foot prodded the dead lackey before returning to Bruce, "**Bruce, Bruce, Bruce**."

He hovered over Bruce. Again, a thumb sliding down his chin, the fingers tilting his head up.

"Where are YOUR scars?" The psychotic clown's eyes became severe, eyelids clenching into leering slits. He spoke, voice rumbling in a threatening growl, "I showed you mine. Now you show me yours."

"I'm a classy lady, not before the first date." Bruce smiled, teeth all white.

For a moment, the Joker was furious. Fingering the gun trigger with deviance.

The next he was bouncing in one place. "_OOohoohooo_!!!!"

The Joker's fingers curled and uncurled in delight. He paused and gave a grin so charming, but ruined by scars.

"**C'mere**." The Joker caressed the bare chin, feeling the 'Batman' shape. "C'mere, c'mere, c'mere."

The Joker chattered his teeth over the base of Bruce's neck, like a paired lovebird preening his soul mate.[**2**] His long tongue lashing out and licking the bareness of his throat.

"We need to get to know each other," the Joker said, it sounded prophetic. Even though it was no revelation, there was something unsettling as if delivered by an Oracle, "I wanna see those scars."

Bruce tensed as at the lush lick of his Adam's apple, bracing for rape as it rolled down his throat to his collar.

"A **date** it is."

-  
TBC

Author's Note:  
I started this fanfic after catching a bit out of The Dark Knight Returns Graphic Novel (haven't read all of it as I gave it as a gift to my older brother) and the re-watching Batman Begins, where Bruce's mother's pearls fall and scatter on the floor and I wanted to re-evoke that "feeling" of innocence being gobbled up by madness. Like a criminal winning, like a madman, like the Joker having something that he didn't deserve. It is really as "pearl prison," I have the idea of Bruce being this "certain" person. I do write more of the Joker's character, but he is an unstoppable force and Bruce IS an immovable object.

I don't want to keep blathering on about what I want to do, I'd prefer to do it. ACTION.

[1] "Hoist by your own petard" I learned what this meant a while ago. SO I'M USING (possibly out of context). Or more I'm making the Joker use it.  
[2] I get to use silly imagery in this fic.

I don't know where this fic is going, let's have fun. Let's venture into the madness where Bruce got Batman's scars, just so the Joker can find out and...

Also, I should work on finishing my last challenge. ORZ


	2. 02 Red Lipstick

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Batman not profit with teh moneys from this. But I wrote this fanfic. orz

**Prison of Pearls**  
_Chapter Two:  
Red Lipstick_  
By Ol' Fighty

My beta is the awesome Crush-Zombie,  
she thinks my grammar and spelling is gude  
but I writes time instead of type.

-

* * *

"Batman can't walk down the stairs suddenly?" The Joker asked, finally turning, arms open, machine gun in one hand as Bruce toed the next step hesitantly.

Walking down the stairs with one's hands tied his back was a cakewalk, walking down the stairs with a psychopath dressed like a clown guiding him down the stairs him was a tightrope challenge. How does one walk well down the stairs with insanity, Bruce struggled wit the uncertainty of every mad step.

"Hold it!" Bruce teetered on the last step. The Joker's hand was held in a stop motion, an expression of mock seriousness was on his face but it melted into laughter. Soft laughs in an echoing hall. A gloved hand pressed against in the space behind his right arm, the other curving around Bruce's stiffening bottom. "Are you an old man? Can't take the stairs without holding the railing? Or do you just call the limousine? Geez Louise. Tsk."

Bruce complied, his back bent, allowing the mad man to mould his positioning with several smooth strokes. The Joker's shoulder felt solid, and he mused on how long the clown would be able to carry him... He didn't seem like the type to think ahead, but the Joker was always surprising. "You weigh as much as a sack of money, Bruce. How much are you worth again?"

It was hard to shrug as he was folded over the Joker's shoulder like a jacket after a night of dancing. "I dunno, couple of billion..."

The ride wasn't free, the Joker did crash into the walls a lot. There were times when he would skip steps by leaping, others where he would reach the platform of near door of the current floor and spin for several seconds. The man was struggling with the billionaire on his shoulder like a damsel in distress, patting some comfort into the man's leg as if it were a crying babe whenever Bruce winced. He seemed to make it into a game... Refusing to stop for anything.

"I'm suddenly thinking it'd be easier for me to kick you down the stairs like a barrel," the Joker huffed on the forth step from the third floor. [**1**]

Bruce replied in a monotone voice, "but it doesn't get you brownie points either."

The stairs had gotten darker, broken lighting, and Bruce Wayne's kidnapper lumbered down the stairs with great difficulty. Who took the stairs these days?

"Why haven't you killed me."

"Are you saying that I kill everything?" The Joker pulled back his lips to reveal his hideous yellow teeth mischievously, although the weight of carrying another man seemed to whittle away at the already scarred smile. "Killing you would be too simple, you probably plotted your own death by my hand. You're a schemer Bruce, but there's something about you..." The Joker's right arm tightened around the back of Bruce's thigh, "that's why I'm going to kill you last." The man's green eyes switched to look at the back of his head fir reference, "maybe."

The Joker...

Was right.

He had been prepared to die then. Rachel and Lucius with clean hands. Batman dismantled and entombed. Bruce had groomed himself, trained his mind for the Joker to apparate past the police and press his gun barrel into his swear slicked forehead. Send a bullet winding into his head, neck craning back and arms shooting for the sky as if cheering.

Instead the Criminal was huffing, but determined, on the last section of the stairs. Bruce Wayne on his shoulder and bounce in his step. Acting more like a boy with a magical sack, than a costumed kidnapper.

"HERE WE ARE!" A kick connected on the push bar, sent the door open. A rush of summer air, with fluttering garbage rushed to meet them. A car was waiting, a brave clown scurrying to open the door of their getaway car for his leader, who held onto the rich boy on his shoulder that attempted to wriggle free. The Joker looked at the hench-clown with a look of annoyance on his face.

Bruce looked down and crushed his eyes shut as the Joker bullet riddled the young Arkham escapee with his "free" hand. [**2**]

"What part of alone time," the Joker stalked up to the passenger's side and fumbled with the door, trying not to drop his machine gun. "Do you not understand. Now, you're dead."

When Bruce was properly seated, his body was limp, his eyes were still shut tight. Face pale and cold.

The Joker pulled the long strap of the seat belt and secured Bruce.

He patted the man's chest, looking at this rising-falling, heavily breathing chest. His eyes closed shut, like a sleeping beauty.

Sleeping beauty.

The life in Bruce's eyes was weak, attention soft and slipping. The Joker found himself grabbing at Bruce, face against face, tongue swishing into his mouth. Lips massaging perfect pink lips, thumbs rolling over the triangles of Bruce's collar, ragged splotches of red lipstick printing into Bruce's face and chin. Chin, chin, chin. [**3**]

He met billionaire's eyes again.

Something fluttered.

Batman seized within Bruce, eyes sharpening. A strangled gasp, like a child grasping for air after being thrown into the ocean.

If looks could kill, then Bruce would be a nuclear physicist. [**4**]

The Joker pulled himself out of Bruce's lap, door smashing against the red brick wall. He grabbed the scratched door and slammed it, rolling over the front of the blue and white ambulance to the driver's side. The car was still humming and he kicked the dead youth aside and sat in the seat, wiping his bloodied hand on the back of his seat. He took the car our of parking and hit the gas, zooming forward and clipping a car in the front. The car spun into another on it's right, and the Joker's made a U-turn driving down the wrong side of the road that was beginning to stop and moving to the side once he turned on the siren.

Bruce sat relaxed in his car, face turned to the window.

"You're my first," the Joker said, like he wasn't running down—over a reporter in his vehicle.

Bruce looked at the Joker, who was nonchalantly weaving through traffic.

"Am I?" Bruce tried to drown out the sharp screams, the burning smell of tires. "You're quite popular yourself."

With Arkham's inmates.

"You know just what to say," the Joker giggled, tapping the side of the wheel as he figured out a way to squeeze through a gap of two panicking cars and move forward, "you're a heartbreaker, Bruce. You're single aren't you? Always jumping out of planes, absconding with ballet troupes, being Batman, doesn't sound like you're like you're the 'long-term' relationship kind of guy." [**5**]

"I thought you were spontaneous?" The ambulance pressed through the gap, hitting both cars and sending them into oblivion.

"My spontaneity is pretty consistent though." The Joker hit the gas instead of the breaks at the red light, while in reverse. "Every one can summarize me in a sentence, they write whole tabloids on you. So what do you look for in a girl?"

Bruce took a deep breath, trying to ignore the scene he was involved in. Could not prevent. Could no longer prevent.

The Joker was hanging off his every word, stopping in the middle of the road to hear Bruce's answer.

Bruce. He had to be Bruce.

"Smart..." Bruce stated, looked at his driver. "Funny, charming, but cute..."

"THAT'S ME!" The Joker excitedly kicked and punched his wheel and horn, Bruce could feel the car wiggling as it wasn't on park. "THAT *HONK* IS *HONK* ME! THAT *HONK* IS *HONK*ME!"

"What are you looking at?" The Joker's eyes diverted to one child of many in the vehicle beside him, already turning his wheels toward his new enemy. Bruce watched in horror as the ambulance inched closer to the sun coloured school bus full of children. He dove right and pressed his lips into the Joker's, thinking of half-Italian models, Rachel Dawes, and Britain, for some reason. He put his all into the kiss, kissing the Joker as if all of Gotham depended on it. The Joker even released the wheel somewhat, gripping and holding down the horn to bray the sound obnoxiously to the frevour of Bruce's million dollar kisses, while the ambulance siren wailed. His left hand pulling chunks of Bruce's brown hair out, which Bruce steeled through.

Bruce shot the female driver a signal in his eyes, the black woman nodded and sped the school bus away as fast as possible.

Batman or not, Bruce was saving Gotham, Rachel, Lucius, even Harvey Dent. Even if he wasn't Batman.

He was a survivor after all.

Bruce pulled back, the Joker mused as Bruce's hair fell from his fingers. "Well Bruce, you could have just said go less... Are we on a first name basis yet, Mr. Wayne? Sir? I bet your Butler calls you sir."

"Actually he does," the Joker caught the wistful look on Bruce's face and eyes tensed.

"Is everything all right."

"Oh, first date jitters." The Joker returned to driving on the now deserted roads, "gosh, never had to date a rich girl before. But it's not really a date, and you're not really my hostage."

Bruce arched his brow at "rich."

From that point on, the Joker drove normally.

Obeying traffic laws, turning off his siren, even letting people pass.

He was oddly silent.

Lost in thought, Bruce tried to ignore it, but without a radio or conversation, soundless driving became painfully awkward... even with a homicidal clown.

"Every time I ask the girl what she wants to do she just says: 'anything you want to' and then we run out of gas." The Joker announced speaking suddenly, he jabbeed the gas symbol and Bruce noticed it was empty as the car slowed down. "You see, OUT OF GAS. No, don't take out your money, we don't have money. I borrowed my dad's car and the bagel shop job doesn't cover gas."

The Joker got out of the driver's seat and stretched, Bruce noted it was 4:00pm. How many hours had elapsed? His mind was fuzzy.

"Oh, perfect, there is a beach over where that arrow is pointing." Thrusting his hips towards the sign, pulling his arms up mid stretch. "Too pedestrian?" [**6**]

Regardless, he slammed the door and sparrow-hopped to release Bruce's seatbelt, leg fast asleep.

Bruce hobbled out of the car, falling on the Joker for support. The Joker giggled between, 'oh you' and groping Bruce's sleeping knee.

Bruce finally straightened.

Self-loathing resolved, with a new mission.

He turned his eyes to the Joker who was snuggling into his shoulder.

"I wanna put my arm here," the Joker slipped his arm into the crook of Bruce's, so that they looked more like couple with linked arms. He pressed his head onto Bruce's shoulder, letting the warm sun catch the side of his pasty-white face as they walked to the beach.

-

TBC

-

Author's Note:  
I was talking to my beta. My Joker is a bit of a bitch, I can't re-write him. He's supposed to be like this. _;; Great apologies to the how the Joker is portrayed in this fanfic, especially to AB. Thanks to my reviewers on both BatmanxJoker (LJ community) and (where I am listed as fights).

I pretty much let my Joker decide what he wants to do. The elevator was too mundane if used in this fic and I saw it done sexily by Madwabbit in one of her fics. **SEXTASTIC!** How can I top dat? It would have been "too easy" a scene in this fanfic, things are supposed to be... complicated. And so they took the stairs. There really is no "plan," just an idea and I'm running with it. Certain things are going to happen, especially in the next chapter, but this chapter was leading up to the next chapter. Which is the beach episode, can you say, "sexy?"

Which leads to another question, how heavy is Bruce Wayne. He can glide through the air and is agile, but is he heavy? Can the Joker really carry him? I thought, "if he's flying through the air, then why not." But then my logic is, there should be a wedding at the end of every great movie/fanfic.

Will there be a wedding in this fanfic, time will tell.

As Bruce can't be Batman when he's not dressed up, he opts to be the next best thing. Bruce Wayne.

By the way... Bruce Wayne will be in handcuffs for A LONG TIME. HAWT

_Footnotes:_  
[1] I was going to have the Joker start throwing barrels at the Police who were coming up the stairs, barrels of garbage you find on stair corners. I chose not to write this scene... Yet.  
[2] Poor Bruce hates and doesn't use guns. He goes into catatonia. I was watching the Japanese DVD of Batman: Gotham Knight and the scene where Batman in the pit, gathering the guns inspired this scene.  
[3] The chin being the exposed part of Bruce's face, it is easy to see why the Joker is fixated on it. It's less of a thing with being gay, the Joker isn't really "gay" in this fanfic, but obsessed with Batman. In love—infatuated with him as an idea.  
[4] I got this from (one of) my favourite podcasts. It'll teach you karate and how to be a gentleman.  
[5] In the Dark Knight, if you read the text on the Newspaper on the Ballet door, it says something like "Billionaire absconds with ballet troupe." Then I learned what abscond meant. LOL USE DEM WORDS.  
[6] They were actually originally going to go to the bowling alley. YES! BOWLING! Maybe later...

Well back to my last Secret Santa challenge, the challenge is more having to do with my bleed thumb on my right hand. The cut won't stop bleeding. And it's bleeding onto my wacom, ;-;. But it doesn't hurt. LOL Thank goodness. Perhaps I shall switch to le pencil.


	3. 03 Pink Parasol

**Prison of Pearls**  
_Chapter Three:  
Pink Parasol_  
By Ol' Fighty

-

With me in spirit, my beta Crush-Zombie.

-

Bruce comes clean instead of Harvey Dent. As a result, Bruce Wayne is captured and struggles against the Jokers greedy whims, himself like virgin pearls to swine. Will Batman be enough of a cruel hero in order to save Bruce Wayne, or will he falter in his purity? JokerxBruce, BatmanxJoker. Other pairings later.

-

Bruce watched as the Joker sashayed around the wooden walk, pink parasol spinning on his palm. His lips blew a buzzing sound on a new kazoo. Elbow folded, linked with the billionaires. The afternoon was still young at five o clock, day not yet bleeding into blue. Perhaps if he were still Batman, he would be slumped in a chair in his house, eyes narrowed, and waiting for the night.

It had been a long time that he had enjoyed being Bruce Wayne. Enjoyed the sunlight and linking arms with someone. It had been so long from the last time he had embraced someone in such a way, another human other than his mother. Bruce felt the pat-pat, a consolation from a balloon. On his other elbow was a string of forty or so balloons that the Joker had secured. The collar of his suit began to stifle him, as was the pull down with each swing of Joker's fun-filled step. The pair was followed by balloons, rainbow balls bouncing and flouncing around the fallen billionaire.

Still he felt jubilant and undeterred, like a heavy weight had been taken off his chest.

There was a hum of a broken song and Bruce tried to hum along, but the Joker only laughed and his and nudged his head into him, pushing him more towards the edge of the wood plank.

"That's right," Bruce smiled, "hookers walk on the outside of the road, ladies walk on the inside." [**1**]

Joker slapped Bruce's arm to chastise him, "who told you that?"

"A great man brought me up to be a gentleman." Alfred was probably worrying, praying that he may come home.

"Well you are gentle," Joker pursed his lips, making Bruce feel his years in fears. A rumbling throat purred, "But you can be rough."

"Being rough is a small part of discipline," Bruce stated.

The place had quickly been evacuated, by choice of course. No police force was stupid enough to challenge the Joker without a plan... And even then, the Joker hated schemers. Despite the area being completely abandoned, including the concessions without servers, and even with all the madness, the tugging of his arm to turn to look at the stupidest piece of nothing—Bruce couldn't help but smile.

"What are you smiling about?"

He could humour the Joker... Let him win, but it was too easy, too predictable. The Joker liked things to be unpredictable. Like how he was alive, right now, having a stroll under the sun with the Joker on his arm as if he were his girl. "Mm... That would ruin the surprise. I know you like surprises."

"I like anarchy," the Joker corrected, "Bruce... Bats? Bat-Bruce? Mr. Wayne?" Mr. Joker twirled his parasol one rotation. "Are we still formal?"

"Hmm," Bruce played along. There was no way Bruce could let the Joker know he had given up escaping a long time ago. As long as Rachel and Gotham were safe, "we did kiss. But—"

The Joker's wild smile fell, for someone who loved anarchy; he hated not being in control.

"You hardly know me," Bruce said, irritation twisting the clown's lips.

"Listen," the sharp pull tightened his muscles, a reminder of his situation that Bruce ignored like a nagging butler. He had mastered conviction and avoidance with his beloved Alfred, no matter how much he loved him.

"Look," Bruce looked, looking around of the lack of people, "if you don't like it, just kill me."

The Joker started to seethe, Bruce looked at the clown not as the clown but as a fifteen year old girl, he happened to be strolling with and much preferred not to be seen with at his age.

"You're not Batman," the Joker eyed the perfect lips from Bruce's side, grip tightening around his date's hand, "MY Batman would never say that. You don't even have a rusty voice."

"Correct. I am Bruce Wayne, Billionaire, Rich, and Pretty-Playboy." Bruce stated. "And I have a lovely voice. For someone who wanted Batman to take off his mask, you sure seem disappointed." [**2**]

"Do the voice." The Joker looked both ways before crossing his beau. "Do it, now... Or I'll... blow up a hospital."

Bruce halted his eyes from rolling or sighing. No one needed to die from the Joker's tantrums. "What am I supposed to say?"

"Joker, this is the last straw."

Bruce cinched his throat, eyes pinching at his 'girl.' "Joker, this is the last straw."

The Joker snuggled against Bruce, rubbing his face into his shoulder. The balloons galloped from the motion.

"Bruce, do it again."

"Joker, this is the last straw." The second time Bruce slipped more into the Batman role.

"Again," the Joker wiggled, right palm over his fluttering heart.

This time, Bruce did roll his eyes.

"Joker, this is the last time."

"Eeeee," Bruce had to admit, the third time was the charm. It was his best 'annoyed' Batman voice this year. "You ARE Batman."

Bruce looked at the unwavering attention that the Joker was showering him with and began to walk towards the beach, "hey, let's go this way."

"Ooh, are you leading me into an ambush." The Joker smirked, "I hope you're doing the ambushing."

"You're enjoying this hostage thing too much, you know that." [**3**]

"What about you?" The Joker said in a quieter voice.

Bruce looked at the Joker who once again became the Joker, rising from an odd state into a caricature. It was an odd moment that Bruce thought that his enemy would fade away without his reassuring smile. "It's been a fun date."

"I'm... Having a nice time, maybe I'll call Crane up afterwards and tell him what happened." The Joker responded quickly, changing the topic. "Let's go splashing!"

The sun would set soon and probably bleed horribly, but the Joker would probably like that. Bruce wadded knee deep in the questionable, muddy waters of Gotham, waiting for the death of the sun and his own to follow.

"Now that I've caught you, I don't know what I'd do..." The Joker kicked a wave at the billionaire with balloons tethered to his body, soaked to his knees with his arms around his back. "You don't even care what I do with you, as long as no one else gets hurt."

Bruce knew he had to act fast before the Joker decided to kill his prize and burn down the city in his depression. His choices were slim and he had to make them quickly. He found himself not responding in words, only in a mini tsunami rolled and soaked the clown's crotch.

"Are you splashing me?"

Bruce looked to the side as if there was someone behind him, "I don't know. Turbulent waters, I guess."

"Huh..." The Joker looked down, deep in thought and exploded with a crescendo of waves that Bruce attempted to counter with more water. "Take that!"

"It," Bruce panted as he ran down the beach with the Joker volleying pillars of water at him, his back soaking wet. "IT WAS ME ALL ALONG!"

"I knew it was you, Batman!" The Joker huffed; in his pursuit he soaked his suit up to his belly. Mostly due to self-splashing caused by running through the watery side of the beach. "You're like water to my fire! Milk to my cereal! Ketchup to my fries!"

"Take that," Bruce retaliated by turning directions, running towards the Joker and angling his body so that the clown would end up smacking his pasty white face into a face of some of balloon followed behind him. The Joker fell into the water, several balloons dislodging and spinning to their deaths into the darkening sky.

Bruce paused.

The Joker didn't move, looking a bit injured and emotionless.

In his concern, Bruce had stepped to close to dodge the water blast and rough tackle that ensued.

In seconds, he was once again a loser, water soaking his back and drenching the parts of Joker's sleeves that pushed Bruce deeper into the wet mud. The Joker flicked open his knife and pressed it to Bruce's stomach as the water rolled over the material covering his victim's midsection.

"Flipped you heads and tails," Joker smacked his lips, water droplets all over his face, "you landed on your ass, so I guess you live."

"Oh," Bruce replied, feeling the growing pressure on his groin.

"I'm kind of irritated, I lost my umbrella—" [**4**]

"Parasol," Bruce stated, cutting into the Joker's sentence earning his a grind between the Joker's straddle.

"You made me lose it."

Bruce looked into the Joker's eyes, looking more deer in the headlights than innocent, "ah."

The balloons floated irritatingly banging at his sides for their flown away comrades.

"What was I thinking about? I think I was going to kill you."

"You were going to kiss me," Bruce nodded, affirming his words. He looked the Joker in the eye, the way he would have looked Gotham in the eye if it were his wife. And lied like he would if Gotham was his wife, "I'm pretty sure you were going to use the knife to cut up my shirt."

"Why would I do that? Wouldn't I just gut you?"

"Because I have scars," Bruce added, bringing ideas to the surreal experience.

"Ooh!" The Joker rose and stood straight, looking up at the sky as if he were going to launch into a hearty speech about gasoline and matches. "I'm not going to cut up your shirt."

"Huh?" Bruce responded with disbelief.

"No, I'm not going to cut open your shirt."

Bruce rose as well as someone would with their arms behind their back surrounded by helium balloons.

The Joker looked away secretly, ignoring Bruce's struggles for autonomy. "Because..."

Then the Joker covered his mirth with his hand, a soft, warm cackle rising from the depths of his heart. [**5**]

TBC  
-

Notes:  
Soon the first date will conclude giving way to the second date.

This fanfic is unbetaed as I have a Word Processor. Once I lose access to it, I will return to my beta. Fanfic writing in Word has improved my grammar considerably. I found I have the tendency to use what I call "dead sentences." Shocking, poignant, poetic lines of texts out of habit, I am a poet after all. Second I write how I talk in my head.

I will be going in for testing soon, grammar test and interview. Wish me luck!

_Footnotes:_  
[1] This was a saying taught to me by many older people of European descent, is this truth? I never let a prettier lady walk on the outside of the road.

[2] I always think to myself the multiple "what if this would happen." I know that the Joker would never kill Bruce. (Not that the billionaire couldn't talk and trick his way as good as he did as Bruce Wayne.) When you think about it, Bruce's fake persona is self-centered, spoiled and immature. Yet the "Normal" Bruce is an act and lie. It makes me wonder if "Fake-Bruce" would "do what it takes" to save Gotham, whereas Batman would do what was right. If Bruce is in his suit, does his self-perception change? As a former character, I know this is true. You really become the character you pretend to be.

[3] Just like how Alfred intended for Bruce's persona to be cover and a way for Bruce to have fun, I started to wonder if Bruce was really having fun at times. Fanfic mind food for thought.

[4] I actually forgot to write the continuity in, lol. I'm too lazy to go back.

[5] I think the prospect of living without Bruce/Batman, would be terrifying for the Joker. When you hear about him talking not knowing what to do without him, how he completed him, how they were destined to do "this forever" comes to show that the Joker's very existence is very tethered to Batman. I also noticed in the BTAS and in the Dark Knight that the Joker is shown often hanging by the leg. I thought of the hanged man tarot. I find that people that have no place in society and no hope are the most terrifying people, not because they are the most helpless but the most likely to stab you in the back.


	4. 04 Black Boots

**Prison of Pearls**  
_Chapter Four:  
Black Boots_  
By Ol' Fighty

-

Beta Crush-Zombie is back. Woot, woot!

-

Bruce comes clean instead of Harvey Dent. As a result, Bruce Wayne is captured and struggles against the Jokers greedy whims, himself like virgin pearls to swine. Will Batman be enough of a cruel hero in order to save Bruce Wayne, or will he falter in his purity? JokerxBruce, BatmanxJoker. Other pairings later.

-

"Well, I didn't expect this." The two men stumbled down a deserted street, clothes mostly dry. The face paint on Joker's face remained only in the creases of his face and the crooks of his frowning smile. The clown leapt on a stack of garbage, letting his weight sink into the waste. The deluge spouted under foot. "I expected terror, rage, carnage..."

His hand gestured to the empty streets, there was not even a car or bus in sight. Even the buildings seemed empty, or were there people lying on their bellies, lights off, silently in the dark? [**1**]

"There, there..." Bruce would have patted the sad clown on the shoulder had he free hands. Thank you Gotham police. "Look at is this way, people are afraid of you."

"I didn't want BORING, Bruce..." The Joker hopped off the garbage pile and wrapped his arms around Bruce's shoulders, toying with one of the three remaining balloons. "I wanted... Chaos, entropy, fire... This is a wasteland of boring. The city looks so much older without people. This must be what an old starlet must look like without make-up."

"I like Gotham," Bruce said dumbly. Then winced, which elicited laughter from the clown.

"You like Gotham?" The sound coming from the Joker's mouth was eerily paused. The Joker buried his face into Bruce's shoulder like an old lover and asked, "Do you SERIOUSLY like Gotham?"

"Well..." Bruce mused. How could he not. Dressing up like a bat, stalking the night, arms outstretched while terrorizing criminals. Gotham was the city where his parents died, but also the city they fought and died to save. But he also loved Gotham, drawn genetically to the city by its age and decorum. "I like the buildings, and I have people here I love."

It was a simple answer, one that the Joker eyes seem to scrutinize.

"Well, I'm from out of town. I just blow up city after city, no preferences." [**2**]

"So why come to Gotham?" Bruce asked. "What does Gotham have to no other city has?" [**3**]

"Are you really asking me this?" The Joker withdrew from Bruce and stalked away fast.

When he realized that Joker wasn't stopping, Bruce found himself following the madman. "Wait."

"What?" The Joker started to walk backwards, arms swinging backwards in a brisk manner. His pace was still hard for Bruce to catch up to with two arms behind his back. "You really don't know?"

"Really," the Joker continued, a slight taunt in his voice, "you don't know?"

Bruce footsteps quickened until his chest touched the Joker in the middle of an empty street.

Eyes met in a shy way, Bruce looked down and away.

"No," Bruce Wayne finally admitted.

"You!" the Joker confessed, while wrapping his arms around the billionaire and spinning him in circles. Bruce bent his knees, almost instinctually. Then he realized that's what the girls did in the movies. "It has you!"

His heart was racing with the Joker's, whose heart Bruce felt, had always been racing when they touched.

The Joker set Bruce down and began to spin with his arms outstretched, going "rahahumhumlalahumhum" and smiling big and unashamed.

"Oh Brucie, I wish I never knew!" The Joker said while stepping onto the ledge of a lamppost, hand in an "alas poor me" expression and swinging as if the leading man in a musical. "I wish were a planner, an architect of ideas at times but I like things messy, you know. I like not knowing, I like the surprise. It's boring otherwise. I do things and things and they just happen. But if I was a planner, then I would have plotted you into my life somehow..." [**4**]

"Right," Bruce tried to sort through his terrorist? Date's words. "Well, surprises aren't surprises if you aren't surprised. It's understandable."

The Joker pressed his hand to his chest and leapt from the post to a kneeling position. "Now I know why everyone loves you, so understanding! You're so wonderful and handsome and rich. Here you are, ah, sacrificing yourself to save Gotham... No one seems to be panicking yet, err," the Joker's voice lowered, "but I wonder if your stocks have dropped."

Bruce shrugged, "I own all the stocks anyway." [**5**]

"Oh," the Joker paused, "well that's convenient."

The Joker neck stretched, head curling from its limp state, a smile playing on his face.

The familiar whirring of wheels in the distance, easily heard in the death of Gotham's night.

"Looks like daddy has come to pick up his little girl, I guess I took you home too late..."

Bruce wanted to reach out his arm, but they were still bound together behind his back. "You're just going to run?"

"Who said I was running?" The Joker pulled several switches out of his pocket, "Gotham beach, Gotham General, Gotham Museum, ah, here we are, Major Street—"

When pressed the detonator caused an explosion and cries of pain two blocks over.  
"Oh..." The Joker pulled out his last detonator and pressed it, "it's this one."

The explosion rained fire down onto Batman's speeding car, which swerved and zipped unprofessionally.

"Bruce," the green haired man slipped his remaining detonators in his pockets and slapped his pockets, unfortunately setting off another explosion in the direction of Gotham library. He winced apologetically at his date and looked at the billowing flames somewhat satisfied. "Sorry about that, tlch. Well, tonight's been fun. Batman or not, I'm look forward to our next date."

"Wait," the criminal clown raised a gloved finger.

Bruce looked to the street behind him. The tumbler looked to be having trouble turning and instead drove backwards.

"Fire, smoke, chaos... " The Joker sucked in the burning air and inhaled the smoke, his hand motioned to a bent but working lamppost, "Charming lighting. Do you dance?"

Bruce bobbed his head up in surprise, taking a step back as his nemesis took a step forward.

"Pardon me?"

The Joker swept Bruce Wayne into his arm, chest up and out. "Do you dance Bruce Wayne?"

There was screech of wheels. It was hard to see past what the Joker let him see with his arms around him so tight and binding. The Joker rolled his eyes. "Oh look at him, drove right into that wall. And now he's backing up, what do you think?"

The steps were hard to follow, the Joker steps were erratic and childlike, more of a close-body salsa rather than a waltz, though the steps and motion and leads made Bruce trip over his partner's feet. The Joker didn't seem to mind—in fact it made him giggle. "He has the car, but he's not so convincing I mean... Oh, we have to do that dippy thing now."

The Joker leaned his down and Bruce followed against his will, but found himself believing he could trust those purple arms.

The Joker leaned over the tilting Gotham Prince and smiled. "Oh, you're so perfect, Mr Wayne."

"Goodnight, fair maiden." In a second, Bruce gasped as he was swept back onto his feet. This came as a great a great shock to him because Bruce never believed the Joker has it in him to be so considerate. The Joker planted a chaste and sincere kiss on Bruce's cheek, before whispering huskily. "Parting is such sweet sorrow."

The Joker was gone before "Batman" stumbled over the wreckage stiffly.  
"Bruce," was all that he was able to muster.

Bruce gave Batman a once over. "Harvey, you look ridiculous." [**6**]

"Says the skinny pretty boy," Batman-Harvey motioned over to the vehicle, "how do you drive this thing?"

Bruce looked carefully at the costume, the Bat-suit hid well in the darkness making the details and flaws easy to obscure. "Harvey? Is that duct tape?"

"Bruce, you have a very slim waist for a guy."

"That's my old suit." Bruce shook his face, feeling some sand dislodge from his hair. All he wanted was a shower. "Is that duct tape. He would have just cut the duct tape." [**7**]

"Look, I'm fat, Bruce. I need to lose weight," Batman-Harvey sighed, pulling a popped strand of duct tape and resealling it with a hard, running press. "I'm here to save you. This is like a onetime thing, okay? I'm not doing this again."

Bruce ignored the masquerading District Attorney and pressed on, "how did you get my old suit?"  
"Well Alfred might have forgotten to lock the door."

Bruce responded without blinking, his legs over-worn wobbling. "I locked the door when I left."

"You're really ungrateful, Bruce." Harvey grabbed Bruce's arm they walked over the wreckage to their getaway ride. The police had decided now was the time to arrive. Harvey helped him over sharp angles, but seemed to have more trouble being ill-suited for crime fighting.

They stopped in front of the tumbler and Bruce looked to "Batman" to see his face grimacing. "Can you drive the tumbler—oh? Hand cuffs. Shit."

* * *

TBC

* * *

Notes:  
My beta asked me why he wasn't mad when Bruce blew up the people in the subway. I don't think he can really get mad anymore, especially when there is nothing more he can really do. He's mad, but it's like how the police died in the movie and he was all "meh," but deep down he felt guilty. I think it will affect him in a different way. Like shit, he gave himself up and might have been killed.

He will probably resume his role as Batman after this. With the appearance of Harvey-Batman aiding the situation and also becoming more involved, the story is becoming more fun.

_Footnotes:_  
[1] I wondered. The city seemed so deserted at times, especially during major fights. In the future dates, they will not be as empty, but it was for this scene. We used to do drills at school, obviously after 9/11. Terrorist drills.

[2] Let's say the Joker was not from Gotham, let's just think about it. You see! WOW. And so I started writing more.

[3] Gotham has Batman. I was going to add a part about Metropolis and Superman, but that could be a whole new fanfic... OR a sequel.

[4] LOL Confusing. It's okay, only the first sentence and the last sentence here matter. Joker wishing he never knew, but wanting to build a life around Bruce/Batman.

[5] He does. I re-watched Batman Begins and I remember that he did. So I added it in, it was going to be a major plot point... NOT ANYMORE!

[6] I'm a plotter. I planned for this to happen. Thus now I can add HarveyxBatman to the roster.

[7] LOL I wondered if Harvey would fit in the costume and decided no. Hopefully it will become a major plot-point in the future.


	5. 05 Blue Eyes

* * *

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Batman not profit with teh moneys from this. But I wrote this fanfic. orz_

* * *

**Prison of Pearls**  
Chapter Five:  
_Blue Eyes_  
By Ol' Fighty

-

My beta is the awesome Crush-Zombie  
She likes Hokuto no Ken

-

* * *

-

"Pull over here. Stop the Tumbler," Bruce clenched his hands into fists. The shaking moved from his grinding fingers from his palm to his wrists until his back shook with mixed emotions. Bruce panted, lips blubbering as if to stop the retching. "No, stop the Tumbler. Stop the Tumbler."

Harvey's head turned awkwardly, in fact his whole body moved just to turn his head as it was the old suit and a movable head was not one of his features.

"No don't open the car, people will see." Bruce leaned forward and pressed his head against the blinking screen. "You wanna help me get these cuffs off or do want me to gnaw my wrists off out of fear."

Claustrophobia began to set in as Harvey attempted to help by procuring a method to free Bruce, brushing his arms against Bruce badly, jabbing the former hostage with his elbows. Bruce tried not to hiss, but Harvey was (neon) green under the black armour and a quick head turn and Bruce had realized Harvey hadn't set the parking at all. The car was still rolling and Bruce dove into Harvey's lap to keep the tumbler from scraping the side wall. Harvey grabbed a hold on Bruce, misunderstanding, making things worse. Bruce boiled alive in a haze of moist air, the thick air made his head dizzy, swollen and heavy. Bruce's palms slammed and struggled to set the air conditioning. It was hot because the air conditioning was set to hot on a hot summer day. He set the dial to cold and gave an equally chilly look to his "hero."

"There's a hack saw in the back," Bruce shook the droplets of sweat off his face and they ran down his hair. "No forget it, get the pick."

"You can pick the lock?" Harvey was shouting. In a small car. Harvey was a big man in a small car. That was cramped and not to mention Harvey was shouting. "Why didn't you pick the lock when you were with the Joker?"

"Between our drive, trip to the beach and the fact that he's a LUNATIC!" Harvey winced, and looked at this other Bruce with disbelief. He folded his hands and tried not to touch anything. "I'm sorry, it's just been..."

Bruce found the pick in a drawer that he struggled to open without help—//as it was unavailable.//

"Stressful," Harvey chuckled worried. Seconds later Harvey started to hover, casting a shadow over the dark areas. Bruce was half hesitant to push him away, worried that the stress would re-manifest in a way that would make it more impossible to be stuck in a vehicle with Harvey.

"Stressful." Bruce tried not to scoff. He looked again at Harvey who smiled and Bruce's mouth turned into a thin line as the corners of his mouth pulled back with displeasure seeing another man look like such a dork while disguised as Batman. "He almost killed a bus full of children."

Harvey nodded firmly, hands practically perched on Bruce's shoulder watching the genius at work.

The handcuff finally fell into his lap and immediately Bruce rubbed his wrists now free from bondage. Harvey wriggled in his seat, excitedly. "Wow, Bruce. That was like—before I thought you were a stuck up rich boy who had everything... Now I see you in a whole new light. It's like I never knew you."

Bruce mouthed //'you're babbling'// and began to tap Harvey's leg as if he were a pre-schooler. "Okay, now move, I'm going to drive. I need you to move—" He held his hand over the button that would open the doors and windows, "—in a way that does not reveal or show that neither of us are who we aren't. It's bad enough that people THOUGHT I was Batman, I don't need the first picture of Batman to be one of you duct taped into the suit."

Harvey looked a bit hurt, and blinked like he was blinking back tears. Bruce leaped over Harvey, who scooted under the more lithe hero and eventually after all the shuffling, Bruce resumed his seat—a warm, sticky, sweaty seat—as the driver.

Bruce moved in a musical way, hands moving like a conductor. He started the car and it did jolt or serve or go backwards, it was a smooth incline. Harvey felt the ride and leaned back, untensing. He turned to look at Bruce who just smiled and drove forward. Just to brag, Bruce held his expression as he drifted a corner smoothly. Bruce looked at Harvey, who pursed his lips and nodded trying not to look like an impressed date. Harvey realized his situation and coughed, "so—"

"So how did you get my suit," Bruce completed like a professional businessman.

"Well, er..." Harvey made odd hand gestures that made very little sense, "I can't say."

"Did Rachel tell you?" Bruce moved the idea in, hoping Harvey would blather something nonsensically, exposing the truth.

"No, Rachel did not tell me." Harvey stated, relaxing his face muscles. Playing it cool.

Bruce moved to his next suspicion. "So was it Alfred?"

"Nope." Harvey popped, shaking his head.

"We're here." Bruce opened the doors and noticed Rachel stand from a chair and storm over in a clatter of heels on tile. Bruce looked back in his head and almost wanted to disappear into the darkness, despite his well lit room. Regardless, he got out of the tumbler and shut all the doors after Harvey managed to get out... somehow. Bruce tried to play it cool, but he knew what was coming even if her hand wasn't raised yet. And in seconds, even before he had a chance to step out of the way, her hand collided with his face. Her eyes puffy and leaking tears. "Hello Rachel..."

"You had me scared, Bruce. You could have been killed! You both could have been killed." She was hysterical, hands flitting away the tears she had been wiping away.

Harvey looked as out of place as he probably felt, peeling the tape off his suit. The leg fell off with a clang. Bruce struggled not to touch his face where Rachel had laid a hand on him, opting to shove both hands into the tight pockets he had. "So, you're slapping me?"

"We didn't know when you were coming back, and then Harvey went after you—"

"I didn't need his help." Bruce stated, stalking towards Harvey and freeing from the Batman suit in one clasp. The rest of the suit fell around him like petals falling from wilting flower. Harvey stood dazed, irritated but thankful in the wreckage, pulling his dress shirt from his sticky body. Bruce appraised the White Knight and grimaced, gesturing to Harvey. "He could have been in danger, driving the tumbler. There are lines on the road for a reason."

"Lucius." Harvey corrected.

Bruce processed the thought and moved onto his second question, giving Harvey a hard look in the eye. "Did you break into my bat cave?"

Harvey squirmed as Bruce got into his face, despite Rachel pulling at his arm. Harvey coughed into his closed fist, centimetres away from Bruce's face. "Well it wasn't really a cave..."

"What were you going to do?" Bruce pulled away from Harvey and stopped Rachel from pulling his arm with the type of precision the Batman would have used. "What would you have done? It was the right thing, either way I had to do it! You talk about this better way, but when someone does it you get mad because it's not perfect! You get mad, Rachel, but you don't have to make these decisions. And if you don't like the decisions I make, you can just take Harvey and leave Gotham."

"Bruce, you're yelling!" Alfred approached in stride.

"Of course I'm yelling, Alfred—"

He had expected it from Alfred too, but Alfred's slap had been twice as worse as Rachel's. It practically winded him.

"Okay." Bruce took a step and sighed, Rachel had gone hard on him and Alfred really hadn't held back. "Does anyone else want to slap me? But we should all slap Bruce right now. Harvey, do you..."

"Psh," Harvey shook his head from a seat that he had stolen from Bruce's communications desk. "No sir."

Bruce turned back to see his old butler broken, eyes red and skin wet with tell-tale signs of tears. Bruce forgot his anger. Who could hold a grudge against such a kind old man? Alfred fell into his young master's arms, holding onto Bruce as if the foolish costumed hero was the last this he could grab a hold onto while falling from a building. "Master Bruce, you're a very foolish young man."

"I'm sorry Alfred." Bruce gulped his sadness back down his throat, "I just wanted to make things right."

* * *

-

* * *

"How are you feeling Alfred?" Bruce pressed a reassuring hand onto Alfred's shoulder. The man shook his head and sipped his tea in silence, raised brows and //'oh dear, what have I gotten myself into'// written all over his face. Bruce made his presence known, by pressing himself to the side of the sofa and staring down at Alfred, cheekily.

Alfred set his tea cup into it's saucer, "well if you'd like to know, I'm still feeling like I need you here, and not on the streets with all the Batman hunting going on."

"Please Alfred, it's been five days." Bruce switched strategies and slunk into a kneeling position, just so his eyes were visible over the sofa's chair. "Please, pretty please Alfred."

"TWO," Alfred's stern voice stated, "two more days."

"Thanks Alfred," Bruce popped back onto his feet cheerfully as if he had just been allowed to sleep over at his friends house, "you won't regret this—"

"—I already am."

"Mr. Wayne?" Five police officers approached him silently escorted by his female secretary. Two of them carried a bouquet of strangely purple flowers with green flat leaves. "A bouquet arrived at the police station, we inspected the flowers but the note said not to open the letter or else," the sombre police officer handed the letter to the playboy billionaire as Alfred rose from his seat.

* * *

**Please Review!**


	6. 06 Grandfather Grey

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman not profit with teh moneys from this. But I wrote this fanfic. Orz Also Unforgettable is by Nat King Cole.

* * *

**

**Prison of Pearls**

_Chapter Six:  
Grandfather Grey_

By Ol' Fighty

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Fields was a couple who had been married for over fifty years and lived in Gotham for their entire lives. Despite the changes, they had held on, living in a happy bubble that let their dreams grow and blossom into a flower shop and four children. With their nest empty, the kids scattering to places with better Super-heroes and brighter streets, Mr. and Mrs. Fields held on until they died at the ripe age of seventy saving him the trouble of murdering them himself. (As he had plotting their deaths all this time anyway.) The Joker had given them a proper burial in the rose bush garden, as all of the roses, tulips and pretty things were grown in their backyard as they were old and unsightly and he needed them off the bed to he could sleep and wake up pretty for his big day.

The Joker swung his hips as he dabbed his face dry, before tossing the doily onto the frozen corpse of his former henchman. The towel slid off his hip and fell to the floor like a coiled snake, hand moving to the old record player and putting on a record of old hits from Nat King Cole. He pressed his eyes shut and breathed in the music and blood.

Pulling on a shiny green and blue dress shirt and buttoned it up. His boxers, cleaned and ready before he killed his messenger came next followed by his purple slacks, "de da what I'm saying, da da da daaaaa..."

"No, no, no! Not this song, Natty!" The Joker crooned affectionately while Nate King Cole sang with gusto. "Something more appropriate, a rhythm to the feeling of the flowing of the movement!" Very haphazardly, the Joker moved the dial and felt the song flow into his veins. "Ah, this is the one."

"Unforgettable," the Joker crooned, dabbing on thick white cream.

The dresser mirror was dull with splotchy globs of white face paint and red, the Joker pulled back admiring his gory visage from spreading the make-up blindly and kissed his own reflection. "That's what you are."

"Unforgettable," he swings his arms out and then snaps the case shut between his index and thumb before pushing the face paint down into his filled pocket, under a handkerchief and beside a knife, "though near or far."

"Like a song of love, that clings to me. How the thought of you does things to me. Never before has someone been more unforgettable in every way." The Joker paused in his full regalia before shattering the glass mirror into pieces with a hard knuckle. He retracted his first slowly, watching the shards flutter down like snowflakes.

"And forevermore that's how you'll stay." The Joker lit a match, cupping it in his palm briefly before moving it back and forth. Letting it dance on the end of the matchstick like a teetering prisoner. "That's why darling, it's incredible."

Slowly, he lowered the flame low to the ground, attempting to let it catch on the aging curtains. It took several tries until the fire spread upwards like a climbing vine. The Joker careened his head backwards as the flames rose.

Gathering his many, many little things, the Joker proceeded to make his exit, but not quite in a hurry. He, like everyone, enjoyed a good fire and unlike anyone, liked to be in a burning building.

He opened the front door to an unlocked car, keys inside, where his henchmen left it before heading into his unfortunate demise. Unlocking the truck from the front and before tossing the nick-knacks into the back.

"That someone so unforgettable thinks I'm unforgettable..."

The explosion rocked a bit, causing the Joker to be pushed a bit forward. "Too..."

* * *

Bruce sighed. Missing out on his childhood, he never really recalled sneaking out without Alfred's permission to see a girl. Not that the Joker was a girl, if anything the Joker was the one throwing pebbles at his skyscraper. Which made Bruce the girl, Bruce pressed his forehead on his closet door.

Here he was picking out colours: black or grey for date.

A destructive date with a murdering madman that would tear apart the very city he fought to reclaim and rebuild. So blue? Bruce was feeling blue at the moment.

Looping on end was news of that day haunting him like so much paparazzo, but even now they did not dare to tail him in fear of their own death relying on cellphone captures and youtube videos, anything that could be snatched a streamed on the net.

"Who is Batman? We all thought that Bruce Wayne was Batman, but with the appearance of another bat the truth may not be so clear. Lucius Fox has refused to make comments on the issue and Bruce Wayne is under heavy guard as his life may be in danger again."

"The other guy can't be Batman, he's too fat. He couldn't even fit into the costume," the voice changed to the sound of a drawling construction worker. Harvey had been caught, but his movements had been so disjointed and erratic in the suit that all the pictures came out fairly incomprehensible. "Just like that guy they found dead on a rope. He could be a fake, or maybe he's an understudy."

Bruce pulled his forehead from the wall and turned back to his choices, a simple, casual black suit. Some simple cuffs and a mid-range pair of shoes, comfortable enough for running. Comfort and style, something he would want for dining and fighting crime.

The white shirt slid on mechanically, followed by his slacks and a belt. Bruce mused absentmindedly before tightening the belt. In the news, the attention had turned to safety. More than himself, Bruce found himself worrying about Alfred's life. He could persuade Alfred to flee Gotham with Harvey and Rachel, but tranquillizing Alfred and smuggling out of the old city sounded more... Realistic.

"Where are you going?" Rachel stood at the doorway, her arms folded angrily.

Rachel had come to stay at the penthouse more often, sleeping as a guard. Harvey had come as part of the deal, but he seemed to take to the life more than Rachel had. Dent was enjoying the luxuries and video systems Bruce had bought as acumen of his wealth.

Harvey was... Different, different than Bruce had though him to be...

Sometimes Harvey seemed emotional, irrational, and inconsolable (due to the stress of the Joker among other things). Other times cool and collected, stretched out on his (Bruce's) leather coach in his (Bruce's) boxers and his bare back sweating on the black leather, toes curling and wiggling. A comedic and surreal distraction to his life as it was.

"I have a date," Bruce picked up a black tie and ran his thumb down the plain black cloth, "with the Joker."

"You can't go," he ignored his childhood friend, tying the long strip around his neck. It felt like a loose noose, so Bruce tightened it in his hands. "Bruce you're seriously not thinking of seeing him... He's dangerous, you could die."

"You know what I think," the false playboy looked down at the long tails of his tie he was straightening and adjusted the tail under the thick piece. "I seriously think that I am seriously going to see him seriously." Bruce nodded like a valley girl, "Seriously."

"How can you joke about this Bruce, he's murdered countless innocent people." Rachel sighed and motioned with her hand, "They're probably still pulling up dead bodies now. There was a subway explosion and four people died. Many others were injured!"

"Bruce, this has to stop with you."

Could it stop with him? Perhaps he could pacify the Joker, while the city around him drained with life. Hopefully he could buy time as people slipped away to Central City, Metropolis and Blüdhaven. Perhaps he could try to contain the tornado that the Joker was into as tight a circle as he could.

But he couldn't destroy the Joker... Bruce couldn't.

He wanted to... But... Bruce turned back to the vanity mirror and combed his hair, catching Rachel's pained expression in the reflection.

"What's Harvey doing here?" Bruce motioned at Harvey, "don't you have work. You're late. I'm not your mom."

"I'm looking for the cologne you wear, it's nice." Alfred was teetering around, eavesdropping silently along with Harvey, who had entered suddenly, half-dressed and started rifling through his glass bottles of fragrances. "Mr. Butler, I mean Alfred. Oh my god, this is so weird but which was is the one he wore in the suit."

"Harvey, this is neither the time nor the place," Rachel bit, annoyed, before turning to the old butler. "Don't encourage him."

Alfred looked at Rachel, tired, but smiled a slim smile. Alfred looked much older and sombre, often wandering in to look at Bruce as it was the last time he would see him. Bruce tried to smile, but seeing how grim Alfred looked it was hard to carry the strength of both their accumulated sorrow.

"It's my special blend, I discovered the combination when one of my air-headed dates over perfume," Bruce shrugged. "Smelt bad on her, good on me. Must be the sweat."

"This is serious."

"I'm serious, Rach." He turned slowly. Rachel looked at her childhood friend, Batman in human skin vulnerable to knife wounds, bullets, death.

"How do I look, Rach?"

Bruce Wayne was always stunningly handsome, but today he looked better than anything the Joker deserved.

"Rach, no crying, please..."

"Bruce, I don't want you to die."

He looked at Rachel. Being alive a little longer would give her a better chance of survival, perhaps. The Joker wanted to keep him alive and only him, if he could buy more time he could arrange Rachel, Alfred and Dent (who was part of the package) passage to Metropolis. There was a small Wayne Branch there, small enough to escape scrutiny from Lex Luthor. If Wayne enterprises survived, it would need to go there. Lucius Fox had been cooperative and was already steadily relocating Wayne Enterprises to its outside branches nudging its employees through silent understanding that they should follow.

The fall had come long before himself as Batman and that madman the Joker, formed from ripples back when Ra's al Ghul was toppling the world into madness and his father's death before that had. A tsunami.

Bruce pulled Rachel into his arms, letting her fall apart where he could catch here.

* * *

**Author's Note:**  
Writing not so good in parts of this chapter, but I'll never post this if it was.

I was trying to hit 2000 words and it looks like I made it. Trying to make these chapters as meaty as possible, still I'm sloppy from my 6 moths of hiding from you guys. I was writing non-seriously. I'm sorry. _;;

There are a lot of extra jokes I didn't make footnotes out of, this is like the chapter before the Joker and Bruce go on their date so enjoy!

Stayed up until 1:52am finishing this. **Read and review**, guys! XD


	7. 07 Violet Violets

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman not profit with the moneys from this.**

**

* * *

**

**Prison of Pearls**

Violet Violets  
By Ol' Fighty

* * *

A perfectly polished shoe moved sideways, Bruce turned on his right toe about one-eighty degrees with nothing more to do than to wait. The boy billionaire had been given no clear instructions, as in the Joker had left a poor quality poem about romance with a note that "Let's have dinner, I'll find you."

So Bruce had taken it upon himself to find a place that he hated and didn't mind being destroyed, somewhere between the business district and a place close to where mobsters, gangsters and other financial criminals nested. The line was not very thin, but his presence today would be enough of a warning. Despite the criminal influences, Gotham wasn't Gotham without old money and new money injecting life into its old veins, warring businessmen jousting and wrestling each other into submission. The rich were immensely ignorant living in pure bliss and absurd luxury while the middle-class became poor and the poor became the trampled and insane.

Bruce struggled on his very corner on a day to day basis. During the night, Bruce would battle the unseen forces of crime as Batman. His vehicle would be speeding through this very street after an invisible concept and after the intangible hope that this very street would be less frightening at him.

During the day, Bruce would struggle on the sidewalk, singing his charismatic ideas. Swaying the gluttony of the rich into something productive and influencing the masses into helping the poor without knowing. Still he sat on the bench, looking at a club that trafficked women, men and even children to those whose tastes matched. A restaurant on the ground level, drug floors above. The only benign thing in appearance was an upper-class farmer's market, but even they were splotched with dirty dealings, importation of illegal animal meat and human trafficking.

The only thing that was serene was the garden made of brick and poured cement that was a work of art in itself, cement towers and high stairway architecture with roses and ivy at war for a place to roost. Even the garden had a side that saw public sex and other acts of public acts of indecency amongst its daisies and geraniums. [_**1**_]

Human were not infallible, those he sought to protect were also those children who had to deal drugs in order to eat, foreign men who had to clean the floors for money under the table, illegal women who sold their bodies for the chance of becoming a legal citizens. They added to the crime and yet were innocent. He had seen crime, been a part of crime in order to understand and became lost. Even Bruce was not black and white and now he was selling his time and attention to a man who dressed like a clown and blew up buildings.

Bruce placed his hands on his knees and rose slowly, "jeez, Joker. Stand your date up?"

His eyes diverted to several news crews in their vans too timid to approach. He slid on his Bruce Wayne persona and flashed his white teeth and waved cheekily because it was the most jerkish thing to do and the news was the last thing he wanted to see and then had to protect.

With a pull of an arm he stretched, then twisted his waist back and forth. Stretches would be good, Bruce turned his head to the left and then to the right catching the sign of a mob approaching on a backdrop of burning objects and smoke.

The moisture in his mouth was gone. Bruce gulped nervous air but stood resolute.

Motorcycles, bicycles, unicycles and other small vehicles filled both lanes but flowed in one direction and forcing people to abandon their cars. The costumed guests started to play their choice of music: the Spice Girls of all things.

"If you want to be my lover," was shouted by a crowd of delinquents, male and female, shooting streams of fireworks into the air, gunshots and flares into the air. The parade marched, businessmen with painted faces and secretaries without tops, stumbling as if on some sort of drug. Those who were once walking started to run and scream, being chased by teens with messily painted faces. A go-cart whirled out of control, struck a drunken teen girl and crashed into a cement walled flowerbed. Bruce watched as teens, adults, women between sixteen and forty years of age pool of one car and started to remove everything under their waists and proceeded to have sex open with anyone who would have them.

Catholic school girls started to climb as high as they could up on the cement walled garden before they started to remove their shirts and plaid dresses, bras and underwear as men cheered and sprayed champagne. The alcohol had arrived in on carts weaving precariously through the enthusiastic crown propelled forward by midgets on tricycles guided by serious looking men on weapons. The bottles tumbling and rumbling wildly in their wooden cages before the crowd rushed the carts for bottles of whisky, brandy and cognac.

Bruce watched the crowd, the mass seemed to acknowledge but otherwise ignore him.

He could see the few of the Joker's men, directing several people carrying large Santa-like sacks into specific buildings, the teams ran with vigour smacking people out the way and shoving a garbage can into a glass window despite a door to the building being open. [_**2a**_]

Almost everyone who was "in" on the joke wore a sash or scrap of fabric that was coloured purple. Those who were calling the shots were wearing green spays of canned paint on their chests and backs and waved guns with a line of white on them.

A vintage car pushed its way through the crowd, hitting a few people to inebriate to understand what was happening and thus where spun violently the sides of the classic, old vehicle, vomiting the sludge of alcohol or red blood. The Joker had gone through an immense amount of trouble to spray paint the vehicle 1940's Chevrolet purple, [_**3**_] but the lazy and hasty streaks had greatly damaged the piece of automobile history. The car struggled up onto the curb and then the steps of the stair path towards Bruce before a loud and angry curse was hissed and the Joker just jumped out, grabbing and pulling a large brown woman's purse with him along with a machine gun which he yanked free recklessly. The Joker leaned in again and grabbed a long umbrella and a yellow scarf.

The music changed drastically from Spice Up your Life to Nat King Cole's, "When I Fall in Love." Something his mother adored with pure sentiment. _"When I fall in Love,"_ Crooned the classic singer as if it were the time and place, _"when I fall in love it will be forever, or I'll never fall in love. In a restless world like this is love is ended before it's begun."_

It jolted him awake, the touch of the Clown's hands on the billionaire's face wrapping a thin yellow scarf around Bruce's noise as if it were a frightening winter. "Really, Mr. Joker..."

"Please, Mr Wayne." The Joker tied a knot and adjusted his own black and white checker scarf, "Mr. Joker is my father." [_**4**_]

The Joker was dressed in a handsome suit and manage not look a bit hot under a heavy white fur coat and with his face paint still fresh but mixed with sweat from the stress of driving.

"C'mern baby, spread your legs for me and fly." Several fumbles with the black umbrella before the device finally slid open. The Joker glanced at Bruce again, pulling close and under the black umbrella under the darkening sky, then double-checked his scarf before pulling it over his mouth, in that second, a dust of cocaine and a shower of pills rained from the buildings. [_**2b**_] The umbrella sheltered the pair from the rain of drugs. "Wait long? I had to ditch my truck."

"Maybe," Bruce tried to reply as cool and distant as possible which only sent the Joker into a fit of girlish giggles as he slid up to the crowned price of Gotham.

A hand slapped his elbow and Bruce could only brace himself twice as much as he would, "let's get out of this wild weather."

_"And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too, is when I fall in love with you."_

* * *

TBC

* * *

**Author's Note:**  
Debauchery cannot go halfway. Reviews are now anonymous friendly/free until the next Star Trek fanfic I write that will brutally ruins my life.

Notes:  
[_**1**_] These type of gardens are so cool they only exist in my mind.  
[_**2**a_+_b_] Just had to make it rain drugs... What?  
[_**3**_] I had to look up this kind of car, but it was red...  
[_**4**_] LOL Such a (first) date thing to say, "Mr. _ is my father."

Wrote almost 1000 words for my Deadpool "I suppressed my memories because I was tortured so bad" fic and then wrote this in a sitting. That's 2500+ words in two hours. As Ralph Wiggum would say, "good work toys."

**Please read and review, guys!** XD


	8. 08 Green Grocer

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman not profit with the moneys from this.**_

_**

* * *

**_

**Prison of Pearls**  
_Green Grocer_

By Ol' Fighty

* * *

o

_The last chapter's word count was low for this fanfic so this is my apology response._

_o  
_

* * *

"Hey, hey, it's da Joker."

"Mister Joker. Mister Joker. Autograph," slurred a woman swaying with her chest out, "autograph my breasts."

"Oh my god, Bruce Wayne... I like need twenty dollars, please ya gatta help me. GACK!-"

Bruce tried to whip around and see the man who had received the hard end of a bat, which was arguably the whole bat. The man fell behind a car and several guard clowns could be seen stomping, punching and swinging large objects at the poor fellow.

"Beggars, they all are. Pfft!" The Joker spat to the side and onto the back of a man thrusting into a woman with fervour. Bruce tried to inch away, repulsed by the open sex and Joker spitting on the pair of lovers but the Joker had a hold on him and the hold did not let.

The street was a cacophony of sound, cocaine dusted from the sky looking to natural like a snow flurry. All the while, the jester in purple held him close and obscured the drug from entering billionaire's nostrils and mouth. Bruce was obscuring his own eyes with a flat hand and hoping that the Joker led him in the correct direction. Although there seemed like a lot of it, the powdered drug floated down irregularly as it was man-made and the snow would stop (much to the dismay of the partiers) as the henchmen would have to change bags.

An arm was wrapped around Bruce's waist and the steady feeling as he pressed into the Joker's side and their steps moved together. It was hard to see the directions with vehicles burning and smoke billowing, Bruce tried but the Joker seemed to want it to be a surprise. Anything would be a surprise, the parade of humanity moments before was like shaving several years off Bruce's life.

In his arm, Bruce held a brown leather bag filled with odds and ends. He dared not squeeze the bad too hard in case something sharp popped out and stabbed him. Still the bag was lumpy and awkward. Being ushered along by the Joker and carrying a bag of oddities that he was unaware of what it contains was the least of Bruce's worries.

The partygoers were pretty far gone, swaying to an invisible song and falling over, while covered in a powdery grit of drug and pills. Most of the teenage girls they passed were still wearing the plaid skirts of a Gotham Catholic high school, although it looked like there were many high school girls.

"What did you think, honey money? Wasn't that amazing?" The s in 'wasn't' buzzed like a bee in that Joker's unique exclusive accent, a rumble in the Joker voice reverberated from the Clown's throat. Bruce was close, he could feel the Joker in every detail, the way the dusty umbrella had entrapped the both of them like a basket on two birds. "Speechless, by the way you look very classically chic. I got this photo," the Joker pressed into his pocket and fumbled until the shiny piece of paper was free, "when I saw this all I thought was-" there was an unusual pause, Bruce tried to look forward but the Joker had angled the umbrella in such a way that he could see and then used the umbrella to make Bruce face him. "We HAVE to match and look at us! We're a match made in heaven... Or Gotham, who cares about the details. What's wrong you're quiet? I don't like that, now speak up. Oh right, you're afraid of the light dusting of cocaine. It's cool, babe."

"I don't do drugs," Bruce stated in a matter of fact way.

"Neither do I? And the weather is dreadful! Full of drugs!" The Joker snapped the umbrella shut and tossed it into the crowd, a young man scrambled forward caught the umbrella. His eyes were so dilated and tongue lapping at the black fabric. Bruce could help but back up from the street and away from the party goers. The crowd was drugged with something. Perhaps something created by the scarecrow but Bruce couldn't tell what.

Stepping towards the building and ignoring the clown's on guard, Bruce walked up and traced the antique metal plating lodged in a wall of brick with his hand. The Gotham prince read the raised gold lettering in a firm voice: "Gotham's Farmer's Market. [_**1**_] Are we going to have dinner here tonight?"

The Joker was beside him already and Bruce's face almost collided with the madman. Hand pressed against Bruce's sides, something not quite cocaine, not quite face paint dusted onto his black suit, chalk? Bruce slid the powder between his fingers. Chalk. Why chalk? He looked at the Joker, impressed and deep within his own illusion of Wonderland. The night and the cold air made Bruce want to put on his Batman suit and stop the mayhem but tonight, the drugged up teens and the brutal mayhem... That was his entire fault.

"I ask you, Brucey," the Joker stopped mid spin and the leap towards his date in a mock romantic fashion. The Joker lifted Bruce into his arms and spun the adult male around like husband his wife on Christmas. The older man seemed to stumble after the first full circle spin, dragging Bruce's feet against the ground as he underestimated Bruce's weight. "IS THERE ANYTHING MORE ROMANTIC THAN AN ABANDONED SUPERMARKET?"

The Joker rolled his wrist in a matter of fact way, hand spinning. "Well it's like... A fancy supermarket... EVEN BETTER!"

Bruce faced forward, lost in the haze of billowing cloud of cocaine dust and hail of medication, watching the youth of Gotham crumble and decay before his eyes.

"By the way, B, you look amazing!" The Joker stared really hard at his apathetic date, even running a hand down Bruce's muscular frame. "Like really amazing, I'm really amazed!"

"Oh... What, er, Joker? Yeah. I picked the suit out myself." Bruce replied rather plainly and half tired. To tell the truth, it almost didn't seem like it mattered. The Joker was making a scene all on his own, indulging himself in almost one side conversations and seemed like he was barely listening to the answer anyway as he shouted something weird into the crowd.

"You would," the Joker quipped quickly and then started striding to the doors, where the entrance was. The Gotham prince shook his head and watched and the clown skipped forward. The doormen were dressed like they usually were, but instead wearing the trademark primary coloured mask. Both men moved to open the doors and the Joker merely smiled and patted one on the shoulder with a warm familiarity. Bruce took a step forward and was overwhelmed.

There were people, clowns to be precise, moving around as if they were the regular employees. Of course they had guns. A lot of guns, some were carrying machine guns. A small, masked teenager toted a grocery basket full of grenades. The guns were so flagrant and obvious that Bruce felt himself pausing at the sight. It was like a gun festival.

"Are you alright, Mr. Wayne?" A young teen in a clown mask had his hand on the rich billionaire's shoulder. His voice was so young and caring.

The cocaine parade and being dependent on the Joker and realizing they were having dinner at a mob run farmer's market that specialized in under the table business and the selling of illegal animal meat. It was too much. Watching his city burn because of him and being Bruce Wayne and not Batman and having the inability to even reduce the damage that was accumulating... People would die around him during the dinner/ Bruce looked at the young boy, armed to the brim with weaponry. BRUCE KNEW IT, he could prevent it and at the same time he was the cause of it.

The anxiety was heavy and suffocating. Within seconds, Bruce was shivering, already had his knee touching the carpet and back was back hunched over. One of his hands was on the welcome carpet, his right hand... and knees being poked irritatingly by the cheap mat's many bristles while his left hand rand over his face. His teeth grit and rubbed as he murmured some reassurance to himself. As Batman he could don both a persona and a false bravado. He could rush into a scene and take down men. He had taken down men before unarmed in his own penthouse when the Joker had invaded. But right now, in the Joker's domain, Bruce was not only completely vulnerable and exposed but also forced to revisit his parents death. He couldn't push his gun phobia down, it kept rushing up.

"I know how to disassemble a gun," Bruce mumbled, shaking his head, trying to snap out of his anxiety attack. "I know every gun on the market. I can still do it..."

The Gotham prince hissed and pressed his eyelids together, hard before running his hand over his forehead. Sweat, Bruce was sweating and he blinked over and over in attempt to stop. He couldn't lose his composure. Bruce furrowed his brow in determination. He had to take his fear into control again. Like the bats. He had been shot before, but...

In the Farmer's Market run by the mob and supported by the corrupt elite, Bruce was more afraid of others being killed more than getting shot instead. With these masks, Bruce couldn't tell if anyone was truly here of their own volition or who was being blackmailed. The young Wayne heir didn't want anyone to die like his parents, even if they WERE working for the Joker... Only now the nightmare of his parents senseless murder was eclipsed by anything the Joker could so to Gotham. The Joker was worse than Joe Chill and would make men that were worse than Joe Chill. The Joker could make people die in a way worse than his parents ever did, people had die in that parade, and people were dying right now.

He eyes pulsed under his closed eyelids. Bruce Wayne felt the cold, calm forehead of the Joker pressed against his own.

"SOUNDS-" the heavy word was crinkling is the Joker's raspy throat, "—like you're having second thoughts. What's on your mind, I don't understand you. Look at you, you're this amazing thing. The world put a lot effort to make you for me. It didn't let me down, look at you. Have you seen yourself? You're gorgeous and brutal. You're so brutal and confusing. Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, Bruce."

There was a shuffled, despite Joker's body was pressed into his, and even with the purple suit pressed so firm against his black he felt and heard the mad clown fire several gunshots into the air. Bruce trembled which only mad the madman laugh harder and hold him tighter. The ceiling crackled and bits hit Bruce on the shoulder with the white powder of the drywall too.

"Don't be scared, Brucey. They're only bullets."

"Open your eyes," from the bright darkness came the course, familiar voice. The cold forehead touched in brief stroke, the wet, familiar lips brushing up against the curve between his mouth and chin.

Lifting the face-paint off the younger man's forehead with his thumb, a flick of the tongue cleaned the clown's thumb of the make-up cream. "You're breathing hard."

"I'm fine."

Bruce opened his eyes at this point. He didn't know what to expect, it was the usual. A crowd knit tightly around him. The Joker leaning close to him as he was on the clown's lap, almost straddled, the murderer whispered with a rasp: "Damn it, Brucey. I want to fuck you so hard right now, but I know it's the first date and you'd cry and probably tear so loosen up."

"Uh," Bruce replied in response. Paranoia and anxiety greatly diminished.

"Bruce you had a major freak out." The Joker replied in a spaced out and annoyed sounding voice, although he seemed to have enjoyed it. "I recorded it, I want to remember it: PICTURE!"

The flash of one of two SLR cameras went off and the clown holding the camera immediately rushing to check the quality. Bruce pulled himself off the Joker and stood, he would not relapse again. Bruce turned at eyed the Joker from the corner of his eye. The clown was giddy over the photographic evidence of their shared moment.

The pasty scent of fresh make-up on his date's face was unusual, unique. Every woman that Bruce had met had eventually smelt like another and with the same style, dress maker and fragrance the world of women blurred. Even the met Bruce met at business meetings smelt the same, cologne, cigars and cigarettes with an underlying smell of old liquor.

The Joker smelled unique. It was fair to say that the Joker was unique, but this was... something that would haunt him down the road.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

Notes:  
[_**1**_] There was a farmer's market that I frequented in grad school called St. Lawrence Market. Gotham's Farmer's Market is based off that. You can get venison and ostritch there.

**Author's Note:**  
Having Bruce flip out again was like, OOC even for me, but it works only due to the circumstances of this fanfic. Bruce is struggle to hold his Batman identity but maintain his Bruce persona, at the same time prevent meaningless deaths—something he had hoped for when he gave up his identity. A bit of Stockholm's syndrome and survivor's guilt mixed with his gun phobia. I will try to keep him manly, assertive and proactive in future chapters.

I'm sorry that this fic is super slow for a lot of people and people are annoyed.

I DO read your reviews. I DO care. I tried my best to put as many chapters out as possible. Thank you for your continued support and fannishness. This chapter is 2500+ words long. It took a lot of effort to write. That effort is for you guys. THANK YOU, no really.

I know it sounds stupid but _**please leave a review**_.

It helps motivate me and new readers (like me) will often look at the reviews before reading a fanfic.

I hope you and new readers can enjoy this and become a fan of the Bat/Joker pairing.

-_**Love Fights**_


	9. 09 Yellow Spotlight

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Batman not profit with teh moneys from this. But I wrote this fanfic. orz

* * *

**Prison of Pearls**

_Yellow Spotlight_  
_CH09_

By Ol' Fighty

* * *

"Pick whatever you want, it's all you can eat baby." Bruce had been at the store before. The items where always fresh, everything was exceptional however, the crime and illegal activities that took place here always left a bad taste in the vigilante's mouth. In this situation, though, what wasn't good was the atmosphere. It wasn't terrifying, if you ignored the guns. The atmosphere was actually overly romantic, there was a display for Valentines and that wasn't for supposed to be ready months. Bruce tried to shop under the pressure of his scarred date, but the Joker was more interested in what Bruce was interested, muttering something in audible, excitable or inane whenever Bruce would as much as touch something. "And pick some food for later tonight. We'll be having a picnic now and a surprise later. Maybe, I dunno. Gotham is fun and crazy as it is, we don't reeeeaallly need to go on a crazy picnic."

Whatever Bruce chose he knew to choose something that was easy to carry, something that was heavy in taste and in weight would be a handicap. It would have to be light, tasty in case the Joker would get into a mood, easy to eat, not tampered with was also was a concern.

"I'm sorry Waaaaaynnnee," the Joker had a weird squish in his eyes as Bruce examined his choice of food, the knave had to make everything overdramatic. "I-" The 'I' was long and dragged out as the Joker looked at the ribs and opened the plastic case before covering the meat, but not all the way. Bruce just rolled his eyes as the Joker "sampled" the pre-cooked items until the madman pasted together a sentence. "Where was I, oh yes, I need something dramatic for the demonstration I need to show you."

"Oh don't look at me like that, no one is going to get hurt or maimed a lot." The Joker smacked his lips together and licked at the cooked rotisserie chicken in its protective dome. The Joker spun on one leg and eyed the orange stand, sieving through the stack like a diver in a pool. The oranges ran, bouncing off the display as the Joker floundered belly-first in the middle of the table. He hissed and snapped at the scattering oranges, no different than any dangerous beast hunting in the wild or a child in a ball filled playpen. He caught an orange in his palm and bounced back onto the ground covered in rolling, scattering oranges.

The Joker raised the orange in his palm and eyed Bruce.

"I made a mistake of letting your daddy take you back before you were done." The crushed pulp and sticky sap dyed the Joker's glove, "Silly me, my mistake."

Bruce shrugged, completely unaffected by the Joker's date gag and watched as the Joker's delight as Bruce raised a plastic carton of cupcakes into the air. "I had to go. My ride was there, do you like cupcakes?"

"That question answered itself, babe." The Joker smacked the billionaire across the buttocks hard and ruthlessly, sliding his palm down his pant leg to wipe off the excess. "You're awfully quiet, honey."

Bruce raised his head and avoided looking at the guns that surrounded him. Something inside him was fighting the compulsion to disarm the small time hired help. The other bit inside him was his child self, struggling to be afraid after all the training and all the effort Bruce had spent conquering his own fears.

"So you don't like guns," Joker asked, off-handily as he waggled said hand comically like a limp rag. There was nothing comical about the situation. Bruce turned his head and huffed realizing he had become involved with a man who loved explosions and other weapons of mass destructions.

"My parents were killed by guns," Bruce answered stoically, careful to mind what the Joker would do as a response. Somewhere inside, Bruce wanted to be wearing the batsuit instead of the one he was wearing.

The Joker brought the surface a side of Bruce he knew of, but didn't always like to see or know. It was hard not to be Batman right now and stand there knowing that he could easily able to disarm all of these men easily if the power went out or if he had semi-darkness. Half of him reminded him that he wasn't and couldn't be Batman anymore. Bruce had lost that privilege when he gave up his identity as Batman to the courtroom of people. But without Batman to stand all a wall and push criminals like the Joker back, there wasn't much he could do but frown and do nothing. "I didn't know if I should have brought it up, tends to kill the mood. It is a mood killer."

It was easy to play his gun hatred off as a joke. The reality was it wasn't a joke. It was still his rule, it would always be his rule and he would always be anti-gun.

"I'll be the judge and jury of that, Mr. Wayne." The Joker waggled his finger and picked up a bucket and filled it with chicken strips, "is that why you became Batman?"

There was a long pause before the young Wayne heir flexed his neck and replied to the waiting clown, "partially, yes."

"I saw you hesitate," the Joker elbowed Bruce and continued to treat himself to anything in the store while turning back at his date as if shoplifting in his own store was natural.

"I'm just surprised that you don't look surprised," Bruce followed a good distance behind the Joker, but the prince of crime was happy to invade Bruce's personal space. "You earned the knowledge, I am Batman."

"But many don't believe you," the Joker smiled snatching a can opener off the shelf and tearing the paper off the product before putting it back.

The young Wayne heir paused, freezing in thought. His body was more relaxed, no one with a gun was following him and because of that, he was starting to enjoy the Joker's presence more. The man was amazingly charismatic and interesting, but Bruce reminded himself of the Joker's ruthlessness and cruelty. It was easy to forget and impossible to ignore, Bruce had to lure the Joker into a sense of security and find a way to put him behind bars quickly and permanently, for Jim's sake...

"Yes, but most people are idiots."

Already the party was escalating outside. The dead were probably piling up with people that were dying and unaware that they were killing themselves. The party outside was an obvious part of the Joker's plan to completely demoralize and destroy Gotham's structured society, even if it was one built on crime and self-serving elite. The market's employees were moving, Bruce was naive to even think that the Joker was being considerate of his gun fear. The Joker's men were occupied by something and the Joker knew that.

The clown's shoulder body-checked Bruce out of his thoughts, "I love you Brucey. You're my kind of guy!"

Bruce didn't react to the quick peck on the lips. The Joker smirked and giggled to himself mischievously.

In two steps, the Joker was able to step far enough out of reach that his men were able to step between him and their leader and block the symbols and gestures that were important. The Joker turned back to see Bruce's holding a gun he had taken out one of his men's hands, "he needs that if he wants to survive the night."

The young teen looked at him with pleading eyes before Bruce reluctantly reassembling part of the gun he had detached and handing back the weapon instead of dismantling it.

His date had already finished and was making his way back as one of the clown's closed his cell phone and looked at his boss, "Sir, it's time to move."

"What's going on," the Joker continued ignored Bruce in favour of directing the four men to the gunfire at the door while he sent twenty to get more ammunition. Smiling when Bruce would man handle one of him men with the skill of someone who was not just a mere hero wannabe, but an experienced fighter with a mature hand. Bruce was getting closer to being a Batman without a suit, a real character. Although the Joker would admit, the suit was nice. He didn't not like it at all. That armour with built in muscles were likeable and lickable all the same. The clown licked his lips and smacked them together, the suit had hidden so much emotion away from Batman. He had seen glimpses of Batman before, a shadow dancing with the dark in the black of the night. Meeting Batman, undressed so delicately and then having his every ache and human expression play better than any Hollywood actor or man upon his murder.

"Grab onto your food and your hats. This place is going to become a danger zone." He couldn't take it any longer, if these clowns wanted to die here, they'd die despite having victory in their hands. But if half of them followed through like they were meant to, then Sal Maroni and the others would be gone. It didn't matter to him if he lost this fort anyway. The Clown Prince of Crime wrapped his fingers around Bruce's wrist and kissed the young man's knuckles. He had Helen. Bruce was Helen, Bruce was Helen and he wasn't a loser like Achilles. The Joker knew he was something more fearful, something of a legend in himself.

The Joker smiled at the incredulous look of "Joker, are you serious" that was printed at billboard-size onto Bruce Wayne's face. The young billionaire was complicated, smart and cute but simple. Bruce didn't even notice the way the Joker was taking advantage of him as he was being guided to safety, pulling him tight when something exploded and pretending to protect the young Wayne heir from bullet even though the young man was faster than the Joker had accounted for and was completely in his element and safe. They managed to exit the theatre fast and enter into the back passage.

"This is Maroni's turf, I took it over," the Joker enjoyed the look of smouldering rage that Bruce must have worn for only his most worthy of nemeses, "I know you don't work as much as illegal food importation as much as you would like to. You're a busy man with two famous names, both always in the spotlight!"

"Anyway, it's mine now. My new employees hate their old boss and like me so you know how it goes. They REALLY want to kill him."

The Joker made motions to the approaching gunfire and the rush of angry, willing men rushing into danger.

"Anyway, we need to be getting to the second part of our date," the Joker grabbed some beverages from the shelf, "cherry cola for you and pop for me."

"Where are we going?" Bruce snapped at himself in his head as he spoke, the Joker stalked to the back and didn't look back.

"You're not going to ask me where we are going," the back room was as horrible as the Wayne heir had imagined, empty tiger cages that suggested some human in a tall building named after themselves just had a meal. Frozen baby turtles, tiny fins pressed against individually wrapped see through bags like packaged fish in a freezer the frozen fish section of a Chinese supermarket. Anything that had a demand was supplied here. Bruce was able to prevent human meat from being sold in these walls at least even though the images of the animals that he didn't save would haunt him. Nothing in this room was alive. The Joker stepped over a strewn out gazelle that had been pulled out and was still slightly frozen and smiled, "boo."

Bruce was able to follow as he had grown used to being in the dark and not having his tools to benefit him while he was training at times. It was annoying when the Joker would reach backwards and attempt to cop a feel every once and a while.

Bruce couldn't help but think only the clown before him, a purple suited man who happily led him from danger to danger on a whim.

The underdressed Batman eyed the car that the Joker had the key for, mumbling under his breath as he sorted out the controls to unlocking the doors. "You know, Brucey, I hate these new vehicles. The classic I drove to pick you up was gorgeous wasn't it?"

The Joker having enough cars and vehicles to get around was enough to prove to Bruce that the situation was planned from the beginning. Another new question was where the Joker was getting all these vehicles but Bruce knew that madmen like the Joker had no shortage of misguided supporters and fans that were eager to prove their loyalty.

"I appreciate non-standard vehicles," Bruce replied, the Joker caught his eye and smiled like a Cheshire cat.

"Someone like you would," the Joker sighed, hand on his chin like an ingénue. "I myself appreciate being able to ride gorgeous things."

The sexual lilt to that sentence made Bruce turn away. Being the Joker's prisoner was one thing, being his date was another, the implications of having sex with the Joker was new territory although Bruce knew in his gut that the Joker would eventually grow tired of chaste kisses and picnics.

"You're blushing," Bruce caught his reflection on a shiny surface, his face was flustered. The situation was growing more complicated, Bruce hadn't anticipated on having sex with the Joker so soon and that concept had broken his emotional defenses. "I made you blush! You've never been a bottom before have you?"

The Joker pressed a simple button and the locks on the inside popped up. "After you, sweetheart."

"What are you thinking about?"

"What all girls think about," chirped the Joker in a coquettish tone, while twirling his hair. "Marriage. I know it's a little soon, but I read in Glamour magazine it's best to ask now than later you know. We could be spending two years living together in a loft, but if there's no ring than I'd rather be laughing than the girls at the Laundromat."

"Marriage?" Bruce parroted.

"Well," a deep sigh rose in a crescendo. There was something musical about the way his date, the Joker brushed back his hair and faked a wistful look. "You also have to factor that if we split, I would be a very jealous ex and I'd kill all your girlfriends."

The playboy shook his head, "a rebound is far from my mind."

"That's true, it's not like you get to date a criminal mastermind every day and there's only one of yours truly. But what if we broke up, what happens if I become the jealous ex?" The Joker tapped his fingertips and clacked his tongue. "Let's be honest, I'd be pining over you for years. Your looks, your money, your Batman in fact, you're the only Batman for me. It's only our second date, I know it's sudden."

"And what about my last name? It's kind of important to me," Bruce added, feeling the way the car move them through the cool wind and enjoying at least that.

"The Joker Wayne," the Joker tapped the wheel and looked at Bruce from the corner of his eye. "What do you think? Bruce Joker. No that sounds terrible."

"We could do one of those stupid hyphenations," Bruce suggested. The moment was painfully natural, strangely domestic. Perhaps it was because even though he was Bruce Wayne, he was not exempt from the infectious insanity only Bruce was one of the only few touched by Gotham's hand and was changed enough to understand the madness that affected the few more than most would.

There were a handful like him and more emerging, but even though he created the identity, Batman took the cake at times.

"Broker. Wayker. Bayker?" The Joker smiled warmly and sighed. "Maybe if we had a baby, do you think they'd have my eyes or yours?"

The car finally surfaced and Bruce sank into his seat.

"I meant like those dual last name hyphenations," it was so easy to sink back and forget that he was here in a car driving past the occasional building fire or mob. It was if every block had a problem, people were just trying to keep their homes and survive but it was a war zone. The Joker's rave party had spread city blocks. A barricade was being erected around the business district. Gotham had needed him without knowing it and in forsaking Batman, lost its protector. Regardless if he had given in or not, the Joker's reign had only widened without opposition or was it wider than Bruce had realized without him knowing it. Perhaps the Joker had a larger, stronger network than he had seen. The only criminality was being washed away by the Joker only to be replaced by a new one, all control by one circus master.

The old blood and criminal history was being changed, even Sal's eventual fall, he was just one head of one group that had been severed. Bruce paused and thought carefully, while the Joker laid out what the rest of their life would be like.

"Dreadful, then I would be Joker Joker-Wayne, it wouldn't make any sense." Bruce smiled at the Joker, to humour him temporarily. Careful to make it a genuine smile to keep the Joker in good spirits, it was mind-splitting when Bruce thought of how screwed up of a mess he had got himself into. "But then you would be Bruce Wayne-Joker, Joker-Wayne sound more like a punchline that I like you know?"

Bruce groaned as he realized the scenery, "Where are we Joker?"

"Are we at make out point?" His date brushed the right side of Bruce's cheek lovingly with a soft and loving look in his eyes. Looking at the Joker's in the eyes directly was an effort of immense tolerance, to look at the man who was burning down a city and people that Bruce had sought to protect and see that those eyes held nothing but love and devotion, if not at least an attempt in getting into Bruce pants in a romantic manner. "Did you take me to make out point?"

His hands spread wide, despite the car being only wide enough for a bent and awkward display of celebratory cheer. "TADA! SURPRISE! I'm sleazy. Bruce Wayne, how well do you know your city, VERY. You must come here often, I thought maybe not somewhere too personal, but a social place where we could camp in this car and eat under the stars."

The Joker hunched over the wheel, breast against the round centre and chin on the top steering wheel. "Ever staked a case here? I can't imagine how hard your dick was in that armour."

"Yeah, serial rapist, less romantic but sorry though, didn't give much room for any erections. I was wearing my extra heavy utility belt and it got pretty cold, if anything my nipples were chafing against the suit but luckily that design flaw was repaired." Bruce could tell that the Joker was amused by that fact, something that would have alarmed any socialite Bruce had dated before would be considered great conversational material for the Joker.

The Joker punched Bruce in the shoulder lightly and laughed hard, "Well if any wanted criminals and other things that have to do with any wanted criminals come up you tell me."

The dark haired bachelor crushed his eyes, incredulous. "Are you serious?"

"Sandy-Brandy, don't be so mad. You knew I was a scum bag, I shot somebody this morning. Then I had my dry cleaning delivered and I shot that guy. The least I was going to do was proposition you. Do you put out on the second date? I guess you're the saving for marriage type. Anyway, its make out point Brucey, I brought a certain SOMEONE who I wanted to make out because that's what you do here. You make out. That's the point." Bruce ignored the Joker's flirtatious looks and the crumble of the old classics garbling through the radio to unbuckle his seatbelt and relax in his seat, which was the only thing that was relaxing. "Where are you going, oh you're not trying to make a break for it. Well tonight, I plan to get to first base tonight with some under the shirt action."

"I thought you weren't one for plans," Bruce asked plainly, the view of destruction below was very unsettling. There were those who needed help so far and cut off from those who could provide due to the two being separated by poorly planned barricades. If he were Batman, he could swoop down and clear the mess up. It was odd, most of the building had lost power and if it were not for the fires acting as torches there would be fewer lights. Bruce shook his head, the stars weren't meant to be as lovely as they were with all this chaos.

His date didn't even bother having reservations, moving to Bruce's neck. The yellowed teeth nibbled on his skin and Bruce only raised his chin but did not reciprocate.

"I made that plan up right now, it was spontaneous-" Bruce felt the weight on top of him and let the Joker's finger rake the side of his head and sink through his hair, "-But baby, you're so not into it. I thought girl's liked spontaneous."

The clown wobbled so Bruce held his hip, straddling his date while landing soft, butterfly light kisses on Bruce's lips.

"I showered, but I'm soooo nervous, Brucey." The Joker joked with a feminine lilt. His hand was one Bruce's knee, kneading the joint as if it would loosen the man. "I'm nervous, you're making me nervous and I'm sweating."

"Or maybe you makes me sweat," the Joker's breathed hard and heavily as Bruce moved his hands in ways that all the socialites, ballet dancers, models, figure skaters, mothers and grandmothers could only fantasize and dream about. Perhaps he had grown used to servicing his own needs in the dead of a lull in the middle of the day. The sounds that the Joker was making was outright pornographic, he seemed to be enjoying himself. The Joker's eyes were heavy when he refocused on Bruce, "They don't call you the Prince of Gotham for nothing and they don't call me the Gotham's number one entertainer for nothing, but really I didn't know that I liked that at all. You think you know yourself and then a man who dressed up like a giant bat sometimes feels you up in a convertible. I liked it when you bit, I think I like that Bruce. I like that about you."

The fluttering sound of the helicopter with a beam of light was followed by the familiar sounds of the camera crew.

Bruce tried to reach around the Joker to prevent the clown from drawing a weapon, but the man had already started shooting with one pistol. "Shit, this gun is too tiny. I guess the magic's gone huh, sweetums?"

"Drive," the Joker grumbled as climbed off Bruce Wayne's lap and settled into the driver's seat again, twisting the car key and feeling the engine come alive.

* * *

_-_  
_TBC_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_(Extra notes, these are old notes while I was writing or giving myself a break. I've reached 50K already.)_

Wow, that was the longest chapter yet. Maybe, it felt like it. I like wrote ahead several chapter. I'm adding my author's note to my nanowrimo event because I am tired of writing fanfiction. So far I have 31, 600+ words here and 11,000 of them are JUST Prison of Pearl. And you're supposed to have around 26667 around this time so I am VERY ahead and I started on the 4th. That and my other favourite fanfics, as much as possible is getting finished before Nov 25 WHILE I code and job search and 3D model and study C# code and made websites for my portfolio. I'm busy. And I still make time for fanfiction because I love fanfiction and this story and most of my readers. Most of them, more fanfics are coming. I may have enough to post one or more a day for the 12 days of Xmas.

More will be revealed on the way. There are chapters going up to 14, plus epilogue and something special I have planned. But you really don't want to know, it will ruin shock of actually getting it. I planned to finish BEFORE 2011 and I intend to follow through.

1667 words PER day is a pain to write when you are getting writer's burn out. Man do I have writer's burn out. Right now it is day 16! In this chapter they were originally going to go camping and the Joker was going to be saucy and Joker-like but it was better that they went to make-out point.

I'll still only at "end time on Nov. 26th." I was aiming for 50k at November 24, but you know how life is. (I succeeded for the 24th! XD)


	10. 10 Brown Bacon

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Batman not profit with teh moneys from this. But I wrote this fanfic. orz

* * *

**Prison of Pearls**_  
Brown Bacon_  
_CH10_

By Ol' Fighty

* * *

Bruce thought of the green, lazy fat streaks in the Joker's hair, the tangled mess of oils, human, gel, flammable. The residue sank in with thick smell of something both machine-like and sweaty, the human smell of body odour from when the Joker was running wild with Bruce Wayne in the night. He didn't need to spread the smell, but it was everywhere and his trade cologne on his lover of night. There was something that disturbed Bruce deeply, the way he had held the Joker in his arms all night and vice versa. Even though they hadn't fucked, Bruce felt fucked. Sleeping, even if it was the purest form of romantic gestures, with the clown was and should be forbidden. Everywhere that the clown had bit him and had this been a horror flick, he'd be slightly concerned that he would transform the next full moon. Another reminder that he shouldn't be here, with a madman curled against his chest, parked in the private garage despite everything that happened.

All his one night stands had been impersonal and unromantic. He didn't want to think of a blood-scented criminal, resting his painted face in the crook of shoulder. Knee folded on his leg, breathing shallow but restful. Bruce brushed the Joker's face with his thumb and half-wondered if anyone had ever washed his face for him, if someone like Alfred was there for him or ever existed in his childhood or if he had ever had one. The scars on his face told a story that didn't need explanation, the way the flesh had healed, it had healed slow and untreated. The flesh was once raw, probably for several days, before it scabbed over, and that was probably scratched over as well. His face would never return to what it once was, and there was no indication that that man was not the same person he was before the incident. Bruce closed his eyes, in his mind. There were hollowed sections with no force guide him towards his next action. The attention was rarely male, and if it was, it was more masculine and predictable. All Bruce could do was wait and bear the brunt of whatever force that the Joker was would be stoppable.

As if he had been able to stop anything so far, he had done nothing but hang off of the Joker's arm like a damsel and plead with the madman not to kill. He kissed when the Joker said kissed and let the Joker into the vulnerable part of his soul in where he had no hopes of protection or defence.

Bruce pulled away, only to find that the Joker was glued firmly to his chest with a gummy sugar, sticky paste. The night before, he hadn't remembered the Joker being this sticky. The sugar pulled away in webbed strings.

The taps of Alfred's knuckle was on glass was persistent. Bruce waved his butler away and the older man rolled his eyes, Alfred continued to knock on the car side door. "It's 8am, at least have breakfast."

"I'm kind of," Bruce motioned and pointed to the mewling Joker cuddled up to his side. The green haired man seemed more docile and childish asleep.

"That's no excuse," the old butler replied.

Bruce shifted his attention from the Joker to his esteemed butler who the Joker seemed put out about, clutching Bruce's arm and burying his face in his chest. "This is Alfred, he's family."

"Oh, Bruce you should have woke me. My clock says 7pm, so it must be 8am, I'm so embarrassed!" The Joker tsked and pretended to play his role as the naughty teenage girl meeting her boyfriend's mother after accidentally sleeping over. The Joker rubbed his eyes, smearing the make-up onto his knuckle. "I'm sorry for being a bit sleepy, I usually wake up when I want to. I also apologize for defiling your one and only son. Also, I retract my apologizes. They seemed a necessary social convention. But nice to meet you, Alfred."

"Pleasure... is mine," Alfred replied slow and thoughtful, there was no sincerity in his voice but one of mild amusement and confusion. He looked to the corner of his eye and into his aged brain for a moment, "I'll make coffee, we don't have pancakes but there are the beginnings of bacon and sausage filled breakfast. I thought you might be appreciative."

"I'll have that then," a feeling of what would have been shame had been filled instead with mirth and a sense of irony, Bruce noticed the black streak against his hand as the Joker rested his clenched fist in his palm like a dog.

"I'll just eat off his plate." The madman nodded and kicked the seat both Bruce and himself shared periodically.

"You need a shower," Bruce stated, the Joker was better handled with a sense of humour rather than irritation. "Can I wash you?"

"How rude-Did you just ask to wash me? I took a shower yesterday morning. And I'm certainly not going to wash myself now that you are offering."

"If I can wash your suit as well," Bruce didn't feel at all guilty about seducing the Joker into being washed, playing with the buttons of the Joker's suit, plucking each button like a petal. The Joker's suit had enough forensic evidence on his whereabouts and could hold clues to how to capture him.

"Awww Brucey," the arms swooped behind his head and his vision obscured slightly as the Joker pressed into him in a hug. "You are the sweetest thing in the world. I'm glad you are the one who is Batman." The Joker tapped Bruce's knee and continued, "I want a shower and then we can watch morning television while we eat but I have to leave right after. I'm a busy man. I probably won't see you for a week or more. I know where you live and work, so I might just spring by but I'm might now. Who knows!"

The doors unlocked and the Joker hopped out backwards with a whoop and a twirl, arms in the air and singing broken jingles in an operatic voice. Bruce hit his knee, the buzzing inside his muscles made themselves known. The Joker had straddled him,

Bruce rolled his sleeves to his elbows as the Joker sat in the now grey-green water. The bubbles hadn't been added yet. The pink bubbles rose and covered the parts below water that Bruce had not intended to see ever.

The Joker raised the netted fabric happily above his face, inspecting the object and appraising it's origin. "Did you have to kill an Oompla Loompa for this loofa?"

Bruce shook his head. "No, just a small time burglar who was dressed like an Oompa Loompa."

"You're a cold man," The smiled directed by the criminal at Bruce was subdued and disarmed by the playboy billionaire as he scrubbed the Joker's hair. "No one is colder than you."

"This smells nice," the Joker examined his nails and cleaned his middle finger's nail with his thumbnail, careful to clean the edge of each finger and underneath. "I'm going to smell nice. I just realized I'm going to smell like you." "Sexy."

"I created that fragrance," first Harvey Dent, now the Joker. "I think I should market it. Harvey Dent also liked it."

"Wayne, that's a mood killer, where are you scrub-a-dub-dub time manners, Brucey?"

"Urgent call from Comissioner Jack Grogan," Bruce tried to turn, but the Joker delayed the interaction.

Alfred left the phone outside the bathroom door and Bruce retrieved the call with a slight wince. Jack Grogan was the new commissioner, something Bruce was able to scrape together from the news he was able to catch. "Mr. Wayne, I will ask you once are you harbouring a fugitive?"

"Which one, myself?" Bruce laughed, playing off the commissioner's rage with a flippant hand.

"The Joker, is he with you? You were all over the news necking with the clown!" Jack Grogan growled.

"But he's as much of a prisoner of mine as anything in this city!" The Joker stood before Bruce dripping water all over the floor, body scarred and knuckles white.

"Get back in the bathtub," the Joker relented.

"He's taking a bath," There was no humour in Bruce's voice. "He really smells, Jack Grogan. Badly, I had to wash him."

"You know my name? I didn't think a rich guy like you would know my name, let alone remember it." "I don't have a choice Bruce, we're going to have to take actions into our hands. The Joker hasn't been easy to catch, if you can turn him in somehow we'll drop the charges lain against you. We'll play the Batman thing off as a joke, if it isn't already a joke."

"Can I wash and clothe him," Bruce was annoyed by Jack Grogan's condescension, choosing to play his role. "You really don't want a wet and dripping naked Joker in your cell."

"Fine, do what you have to do. I already have a man at the entrance of every orifice of that building, Wayne," there was a mutter that came afterwards, "that sounded really wrong."

"That's not a concern," Bruce replied snapping into his Batman voice, he blinked and turned to look at the Joker as his face dripped with water. He had slipped, the voice came so naturally and the Joker was leaning into himself as he sat in the tub in guffaw. Bruce rolled his eyes and moved his sleeves up.

"Bruce…. If you are Batman," Bruce cringed as he lathered up a hand and adjusted the portable phone, "you think coddling, hugging and will pacify the Joker. I know as anyone else knows that we regret forcing you to turn yourself in. You're a hostage as much as anyone else."

Bruce paused as he looked down at the scalp he was beginning to massage, thankfully the bath was full of bubbles and the Joker was preoccupied with the bath he was being given. He looked at the green hair and rolled the shampoo into the criminal's hair. He was plotting, that was the most he could do. After Alfred, Rachel and Bruce mused as his thought, Harvey was taken to safety he would execute his idea. "I know, but that's not going to do us any good. Do what's best for Gotham."

Bruce hung up before the Joker snatched the phone from his hands. The Joker's eyes were dark and trained on Bruce, his hand tightened around Bruce's wrist and squeezed. "Trying to communicate with another man when your boyfriends is in earshot, isn't that called cheating?"

"I don't like that Bruce," Bruce stopped the punched as the Joker burst into a litany of laughter, the hand fell on Bruce's cheek and his thumb tenderly rubbed skin on the side of Bruce's face. "I know it's only been our second, does giving me a bath count as a third date? I've been eyeing you, trying to find out your likes, your dislikes, your favourite foods, you astrological sign," Bruce fell into the bathtub as the Joker guided into the water and straddled him, "your favourite actress, the your dating type and most of all, your true identity! And you know what I learned?"

Alfred was at the door, knocking on the wood. The man was no doubt worried out of his mind. Harbouring a fugitive was a different matter than being a vigilante, let alone washing the criminal in a bath full of bubbles. The Joker was new territory, rules didn't apply to him.

"Shut up old man! This is private time!" The Joker pulled his attention from the banging that had now gone silent, "Now where was I? I was just telling you how MAD I was to find out you were the richest, most influential, sexiest man in Gotham! I was pretty mad? What do I buy you for Christmas? You could buy anything I could steal, take or borrow. But then I thought, you just gave yourself to me and now you're all mine."

"I knew you would turn yourself in though, that's so Batman of you. I thought you would, you would do it. You're a something special and that's why I'm with you." The sweet tone almost sounded feminine, as if it was his wife and they had been married for many years. Just another face Bruce was just seeing now, he pulled Bruce's fingers to the centre of his lips and pulled the left to the edge where his scar ended.

From sweet to bitter to angry to laughing, the sudden mood swings made Bruce more frustrated than ever. The Joker was unpredictable, but calculated enough to have all his schemes fall almost serendipity into place. With the Joker in close proximity he could easily stop him… But that would cause him to have to speed up his plans. Was it worth it, Harvey would balk and drag his feet slowing down his own rescue while Rachel and Alfred would refuse to leave Gotham without him.

It was a risk and in a moment of weakness Bruce hand almost knocked the Clown unconscious in a fit of frustration when the Joker dolloped some shampoo onto his hands and began to massage Bruce's scalp lovingly, parting the scalp as if a chimpanzee looking for knits. The Joker was after all the Joker, his moods swung wildly, but he hadn't truly hurt Bruce yet and that in itself was not an issue but it would at least buy some time. He had counted on that and that still held true, even as an exposed Batman he would be useful in saving his loved ones at least this much.

Bruce watched as the Joker pulled away to allow his beloved to peel off his shirt, eyes glazing over each scar, fresh and old. Bruce left his pants as the Joker knees and legs were pinning his legs down as the Clown Prince sat awkwardly on top of Bruce. It was an opportunity to wash the events off last night off his body. It was easy to forget that he and the Joker both picked up the awful scents of last night. The Joker watched him, eyes scanning him quietly with a knowing smile. It was inevitable, Bruce wanted to keep his pants on to dissuade from the situations from becoming sexual but his legs were starting to become uncomfortable, itch and braise his skin as the Joker moved to inspect Bruce's scars.

"This soap doesn't smell Brucie," the Joker sniffed the suds he pulled from Bruce's body, frown on his face and angled brows.

"I use an unscented soap when I go out on patrol now," Bruce sighed as his pants stuck to his legs awkwardly as he pulled them off, he could hear the Joker moan strangely as he turned his back. "Back when I used to go out on patrol."

"Mm, yes, Bruce, back. I like it." Bruce shot the Joker a severe look, but he regretted seeing the obvious arousal that the Joker had as he trailed Bruce's shoulder.

"Stop that," Bruce moved the turn the shower head and drain the bath but the Joker's hands trailed to places that made him freeze and remove the offending hands. Bruce looked the clown in the eyes and took a deep breath in as he stepped into the shower with the Joker in tow.

The rest that was a blur of fighting needy hands and wrestling cloth onto flesh, the Joker looked well dressed in Bruce's clothes while Bruce himself looked like he had be mugged which was closer to the truth. It took a while before the Joker calmed down. His date sat on the stool, tottering while eating and watching the news with rapt attention, muttering every once and awhile and scowling when the newscast would divert attention towards him and towards evacuation plans.

Breakfast was a slow precession of sausages, bacons and eggs that were stolen off Bruce's plate as Alfred had neglected to serve the Joker as the Clown was obviously picking at Bruce's food as a play for attention and that Alfred was the only equivalent to a father figure in this situation which would cause a 'father-in-law situation.'

"So," Alfred raised an eyebrow, amazingly calm but he was familiar with the situations that Bruce often fell into. "What was Brucey like when he was a kid? Do you have any photos?"

"Actually yes, oh Bruce, he used to be afraid of everything," Alfred, being unflappable and uncompromising of his opposition to the Joker being in the Penthouse, chuckled. "The dark, the night, bats. He was a nervous wreck. I almost miss it. I almost wished he'd be at least a little fearful about getting into bad situations. Ah, I left it out."

Alfred retrieved the album, reseating Bruce with a 'if you don't let me do thing, I'll get you back later' expression.

"Here are some pictures of Bruce," Alfred set the dangerous weapon in front of the Joker. "I managed to find some friends that were happy enough to pass them along. We had a fire."

"I heard," the Joker pawed through the book, looking up at the annoyed Wayne heir. "Bruce didn't you get drunk and burn the manor down?"

Bruce looked to the side and said nothing, thinking of his family home lost due to Ras al Guhl. ***Alfred laid the album open to a picture of a young Bruce. One Alfred had phoned the local paper for.

"And here are your parents," the Joker slapped his knee as he fumbled to fed a strip of bacon into his mouth. The piece hung from his mouth as he giggled, yet was careful not to get oil on the album. "They look so happy to have a son who would grow up to dress up as the three things he was scared of. Will you look at that?"

"I've never had the occasion to use this but, if you turn here, here are some of Master Bruce's baby photos," Bruce lunged as the old Butler turned his back to him and raised a hand. There was no way to stop the man as the clown's eyes fell onto one of the other darkest memories he had, mostly because they were embarrassing and to think Alfred would pull such a cheap trick like this.

"Don't show the Joker my baby photos!" Bruce sulked.

"Oh my goodness," the clown glazed over the small photographs of Bruce one with the young Wayne heir crawling and bouncing to another were the baby Batman had one hand in his mouth as he sat and looked up at the camera with a confused face. "Brucie!"

"I hope our babies look twice as cute!" The Joker whispered to Bruce as he slunk beside his date from last night, glad that Alfred was out of earshot.

Bruce stepped towards the unmistakable sound of a helicopter on his balcony, two. The camera crew had returned.

"Is that my ride? Well, I have to go," The Joker leered at Bruce who managed to sidestep his grab, evade his next attempt. "Thanks for a splendid evening Bruce. Oh and one last thing-"

Bruce's eyes were sharp, perhaps because he didn't know that the Joker only wanted one kiss goodbye. The Joker swung a punch to get Bruce to moved aside again, but the man not only blocked him but pushed his back. It took a while, despite not being in costume, Bruce's hand to hand combat skills did allow Bruce to escape the Joker's seventh try. He grabbed the Wayne heir's still wet hair as he lay down a smooch as Bruce still managed to fight back hard, even to as much bite the Joker's lip.

The clown pulled back and licked the blood, "took all night to get you to do that, and yet you did it right now. I like that Bruce. But I like your stubbornness more."

With one last, hard ass grab, the Joker stepped towards the rope and ascended to the helicopter.

Alfred laid a hand on his ward's shoulder and sighed. "Bruce, you didn't have to fight him."

"I didn't want you to see that," Bruce wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "wait a second. Where's his suit?"

Alfred followed his ward to the mess where the clothes lay, Bruce felt the mass until he withdrew a device.

"Just as I thought," Bruce pulled the tell-tale device from the purple suit and crushed it with his hands. "He was bugged."

"I removed most of the bugs nearest to our penthouse while you were gone last night." Alfred caught Bruce's cheeky smile and held up a palm. "Luckily there was none on the inside."

Bruce raised his hand to his chin. He'd have to act quickly. "Alfred, I have a plan."

"Oh dear, not another..."

"I need you to do something for me," The vigilante's mind traces over his old plans, before the Joker took Gotham, "please Alfred."

* * *

_tbc_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Has anyone's parent showed their friends their baby photos, I managed 15 minutes before I flipped out. Stuff like that is not cool but totally happens when people who would use blackmail material against you come over. But we have a baby on the premised now so now I'm the kettle.

This was a cool chapter, almost forgot the Joker took a bath before coming but I made Bruce give him a bath because that would be lolarious and this is about random shit happening in such a way that it's exciting.

This fanfics suffers from "wouldn't it be cool"-itis. But that's why you keep reading because it's executed very slickly and lolariously.

Also I read on wikipedia that Jack Grogan was Commissioner after Loeb and before Gordon.

I'm posting today in case I can't post on Friday.

**READ AND REVIEW!**  
** I'm writin's for yous.**


	11. 11 Orange Flame

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Batman not profit with teh moneys from this. But I wrote this fanfic. orz

* * *

_o_

He was lucky to even get Alfred to take his plan seriously, but the man understood and diligently departed to his destination and Bruce was left alone to take the Joker on by himself.

Bruce brushed his hair back. He dropped the last piece, hands bloodied and tired. It was the last suit, he was careful to stow the others away. He would need them. It took two days of no sleep and a poor diet but Bruce managed to save and hide what he could.

The glove dropped into the opening and zipped up the body bag quickly. Sagging against the bag, he kicked his legs up on the seat and closed his eyes. Sleep took him quickly.

* * *

**Prison of Pearls**_  
Orange Flame_  
_CH10_

By Ol' Fighty

* * *

"Where's Bruce! And don't come back until you find him!" The Joker threw the empty gun at the wall, warning no one in particular because everyone in the room was dead.

The Joker frowned and slunk into his sofa and rested his against the lap of the dead body, blood sinking into his hair. Bruce hadn't called, the Joker had staked out Bruce's job and penthouse but the man hadn't returned home after the butler went missing. The Joker had no intention of spending time with Bruce's former love interest, Rachel or her lover boy, Harvey Dent. He clutched his fists and burst into screech, "How did he go missing so quickly? Bruce."

He rubbed his cheek into the woman's still warm lap, "maybe I should just grab his old childhood friend, Rachel. See what he'll do. I'll give him two more days. It'll be more fun that way at least and whatever that guy does, he never lets you down, HOO BOY! Rachel Dawes still is no Bruce Wayne, pity for her."

The Joker rubbed a bloody hand, still flecked with the meat of someone's insides onto his now wetter belly. "Gosh, I love Bruce. What's the thing people say, if you love someone tell them more often."

The Joker closed his eyes trying to fall asleep, having nothing to do and no one to bother to death but the pocket of over pants buzzed with excitement as soon as he touched his knee. "A telephone call? For me?"

"Hello," the Joker paused and felt his belly flutter with butterflies.

"Joker," Batman's voice rasped.

"Brucie, long time no see!"

"Sorry, I've been busy." Bruce shuffled in his Matches Malone disguise, the crowd was thicker than usual as anyone who wanted to be anyone in this renaissance of crime was gathered. The Joker's voice was loud and boisterous, the volume was lowered.

"That doesn't mean you should be a stranger? I miss you, I miss your voice." There was a seductive tone to the Joker's voice, making Bruce bare his teeth. "There's something really important I need to tell you Bruce."

Bruce looked for a corner that wasn't being used to pass drugs of sell sexual services. "Oh and what is that?"

The Joker looked up at the hole in the woman's face from her lap and smiled to himself, ready for Bruce's reaction to hearing such words from a man like himself. "I love you."

The bit of glass that caught his reflection was enough to project a different man. Bruce stared at his face, no one had recognized him yet but he was Matches Malone longer than he was Batman after all.

Bruce looked over to his old accomplice and sat down without greeting the overly friendly snitch.

"Matches Malone, long time, no see." Johnson leaned over the table, smiling with unattractive yellow teeth. "Are you working for the Joker yet? A man like you would go far with a guy like that."

Bruce strained to pull his frown back into a sly, dark smile. "It's hard to get initiated, you know that. Besides, I like living. Joker pops people's head like balloons."

"You're telling me! I'll be honest and say that I did try, but you know. It's dangerous but you get really big bucks, the Joker don't care for money himself that is, unless he needs it for something."

"I heard he's looking for that Wayne heir," Bruce chuckled at Johnson's famous subtlety, whatever the crook had to say would be interesting. Johnson went where the money was, would change his name for any amount. Johnson liked money and was easy to control, the fact he was interested in the Joker was a sign that the man wouldn't last any longer. "You wouldn't know I guess You always kept to yourself."

"Oh yeah," The man was so simple and transparent that he made Bruce laugh, the way Johnson was trying to butter him up before a pitch.

"He's got a crush on that guy the size of Gotham and is willing to crush Gotham to get him," it would be a good opportunity to put the Joker away from the inside, but the Joker was a seasoned and experienced crook. There was literally no way to meet the man even though Bruce had tried to interrogate the Joker's second. "You outta be careful, but with your rep it could tip both ways. The Joker would love a guy like you, your feather's never ruffle do they Malone?"

"Oh they ruffle," Bruce appraised the women dancing on the stage, the always danced more enthusiastically when he arrived. It was hard to find a good looking man with money, the song 'Hey Big Spender' came into his mind. Bruce tried to enjoy the warped humour of it, where he was and the people who surrounded him, men from various mobs, gangs ousted by the Joker's new rule and lucky to be alive at the moment. The Joker's current romance and infatuation with Gotham's Prince, Bruce Wayne was a distraction from the clown hunting each and every man down. "The only thing is that I don't kill."

"I know," Johnson knew his friend, Matches, had him beat. There was more to this than needing an experienced skilled worker like his Matches Malone persona. Johnson knew not to pitch jobs unless he asked.

"I almost forgot, here ya go Matches," Bruce took the package and placed it in his shirt. The money landed into the dealer's hand politely, although the man was more concerned with counting his new earnings than manners. Johnson tucked away the money quickly so no one would see, although the women around him did take notice. "I like you. You should come do more business here."

There was a giggle and flutter of cloth as the Joker's men walked in and surveyed the dancers and the rest of the guests, Bruce smirked as they were minus their lead man.

"They're back, as if Bruce Wayne would hang out here." Money again, Bruce memorized Johnson's face. The man looked hopeful, like a lonely wallflower at a dance. It was possible it was the last time Bruce would see the man. Men like Johnson were just tools for a madman like the Joker, they motivated themselves, rarely getting the carrot the Joker dangled before them, alive at least. "He's probably got more money than god."

"No one has more money than god," Bruce motioned for another beer and the woman lowered it, stroking his hand as he left. "And besides, what would god want with money?"

"That guys new." The punks made a beeline towards Bruce's table, ignoring the regulars. Bruce frowned as one of the men postured menacingly, "We're looking for this guy, you hear anyone say anything?"

"The truth is, ain't we all? We're all looking for Bruce Wayne too." Matches Malone replied cool and collected. "They know the street price. Nobody is stupid enough not to turn him in. We don't want the Joker getting angry, do we?"

"Easy for you, he don't get angry at you." The clown spat angry, swiping out and smashing one of Bruce's empty bottle's to the floor. The conversations stilled to a halt as the crook pressed a gun against Bruce's head. Engaging the man in a fight was unwise, Bruce didn't falter and the henchman kept smiling and retracted the weapon. "I'm just saying keep an eye out."

"Tough spot there," Bruce tapped for another beer as the woman made her rounds and she was a little bolder in her offer, Bruce ignored the attention and met his friend's jealous scowl. "What's the matter Johnson?"

"Damn Matches," Johnson slammed his hand on the table, eyeing Malone's beer and sighing. The man was incredibly cheap, actually trying to get his friend to buy him beer. Johnson knew he'd been through worse but the small fry crook was playing the sympathy angle to get a beer. "I almost pissed my pants."

Bruce rolled his eyes and noticed that the blonde man who entered with the Joker's men eyeing him curiously from the door.

* * *

_tbc orz_

* * *

**Author's Note:**  
This chapter got split in two but MAN did it take forever!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Batman not profit with teh moneys from this. But I wrote this fanfic. orz

* * *

**Prison of Pearls**_  
Brown Bacon_  
_CH10_

By Ol' Fighty


	12. 12 Blonde Bombshell

The night stared back with the same mirrored emotion that matched Matches mood. The Joker had murdered more innocents in a bid to get at Bruce Wayne and without having to worry about Alfred's safety he was left to stake out the nights in his rusty car. Rachel and Harvey were both dull people despite both obviously sleeping over each other's apartments. Harvey often slept on the couch which made spying on the pair dull and boring.

Harvey had slept with Rachel on occasion but often stayed up late trying to work.

Deep down Bruce would have hoped they were at least attempting to find happiness with each other. With the Joker on a spree, happiness was on low supply. The call to search for Bruce Wayne was a world-wide affair. After the Joker said he loved Bruce, the billionaire spent nights feeling guilty. Pulling his jacket around his body Bruce caught the man approaching him.

Instead of turning around, seriousness overtook Matches's disguise on his face, reaching the edges of his face. "Is there a problem, sir?"

Matches expected to be sold out by Johnson eventually, but the man seemed fierce and forceful. Johnson was probably dead.

"The Joker is looking for your type, I got word that you are good with computers as they say you are?" Matches blinked at the suave gangster sizing him up, "the question is, are you as bad as they say you are?"

Bruce scratched his stubble, no longer a disguise.

The situation had Johnson written all over it. One of the Joker's men, but he was clearly not one of the Joker's goon. The man was too well dressed, too graceful to be anything that violent. Like Johnson, the man had a swagger right up to a pitch.

The false criminal turned his face away from the man who was obviously a recruiter for the Joker and tried to step away. "The Joker is looking for your type, I got word that you are good with computers as they say you are?"

The man took a drag of his cigarette. He moved his hand in a strange way. "The question is, are you as bad as they say you are?"

Johnson was definitely dead.

The man laughed, it was strangely feminine and abrasive like sandpaper. The man's voice was so unusual, something the Joker probably picked up on as well and adored.

"Really, the Joker? I don't know if I really want to work for the Joker." The tan trenchcoat shoulders lifted on Matches's disguise, "My life is pretty important but it really depends how good the money is?"

"It's another job, sides from the goose chase." The blonde man paused for a moment, surveying Malone's face with an interesting look. The gaze held something heavy and the man breathed smoke in and then exhaled. The man spoke quickly, looking out as if to be shot upon saying those words. "Are you interested or not, it's a yes or no question."

The man was clearly attracted to him, more interested in Malone than getting him on the case. Bruce shuffled. The man wouldn't be easy to dodge. It would jeopardize the future to go against his time sensitive time. "You can't even tell me this big job I'm supposed help pull?"

"Let me tell you how the Joker rolls, you say yes or no before you know. If you find out what you have to do before the game starts, he shoots you."

Bruce contemplated the situation, if he worked for the Joker without meeting the man he would be fine. If he did, he could handle it. "Do I have to shoot or kill anybody?"

"That's not your job, sheesh you're tough as he said." The man rubbed his forehead, "Johnson passed info on for me. He told me that you don't like that shit. It's easier than stealing from Bruce Wayne, I'll tell you for sure."

"Easier than stealing files from Wayne," Bruce scratched his stubble, "But you must have got another guy. You need two guys for what?"

"The other guy is still on the team, we just need another computer guy to speed up the process. Joker's call, you know the Joker and I really don't want to get my balls busted again for not finding a guy on time." Christopher hissed, "You sure ask a lot of questions?"

"I'm not dumb," Matches replied.

"Good, because I don't need dumb guys on my team," the blonde man smiled largely and stuck out his hand although upon contact the hand was firm and full of want. "Name's Christopher, welcome aboard."

"I guess I don't have a choice. All the recent shooting make sense now." Christopher smiled in a way that only a man that had killed would have, "All the men were hackers of high merit. And I guess I was just another hacker that was smart enough not to get shot."

"Johnson said you were good," Christopher gave another suggestive look. "And you are good."

* * *

**Prison of Pearls**_  
Blonde Bombshell_  
_CH12_

By Ol' Fighty

* * *

Bruce tossed two bags in the garbage, Christopher smiled at him but Matches looked forward and pushed through the door.

The kid had his eyes glued on Bruce since they both stepped into the building, Matches shot Eric a severe look but the boy held his stare. Matches did his best to move and act like a computer's expert, but the kid didn't follow his moves. Watching, waiting.

"What do you want?"

"Did you really hack into Bruce Wayne's server?" The adoration and crackling of puberty caused Matches to wince as Christopher laughed at the elder hacker.

"Come on kid," the way the boy sulked as he opened his computer and joined in with Bruce. Bruce had no idea why he was in on the job.

Matches had brought on to bring down international firewalls and hacking into the government's security. His job was to weaken and dismantle the rest of the world to make them open and receive the Joker's message when it came, on his terms. Simple, the kid was typing away fervently as the gun shots rang out ahead.

The gunshots recording Bruce played in his rusted out car as he slept had eased his fear of guns. Having an imitation gun on his person as he slept gave his sobriety and control.

Bruce tried not to flinch as both a team mate and several guards hit the floor and died, the Joker was already inside and between the Joker and the entrance where they were, it would soon become a pinch point as both chose the lesser of two evils.

There were blood curding screams as a woman died and another shrieked and shrieked until another bullet followed. Silence and a hush of quiet inside the building, other than the shouts and aggravation and demanding gunman attempting to get the two civilians to get on the ground, the Joker's side was more controlled. Almost eerily so… Matches looked up.

"He's real tough," the boy said.

Matches's face softened as he ruffled the kid's messy brown hair, "put on a brave face."

o

* * *

o

Christopher had gone to talk to the boss for a bit to long, the kid had re-routed to the exit with the rest of the team he infiltrated with.

Bruce hopped off the table corner, pulling away from his computer and standing straight.

The Joker… The Joker looked at him as if he was receiving his birthday presents, open and arms stretched.

"You're Matches Malone?"

Christopher smiled, seeing his boss amused for the first time. "He's well known in Asia. We were ahead thanks to his skill, I never seen a guy hack that fast."

"You said this guy had a history longer than Batman's existence," the Joker was fixated, his teeth chattered.

"I think he's the best I've ever seen at least," Christopher smiled. All the blood drained from Bruce face. The billionaire in pauper's clothes lunged forward-attempting to grab the gun the clown was withdrawing. The betrayal on Christopher's face held tight.

"You're all idiots," Bruce skewed the gun in the Joker's hand to the ceiling only for the Joker to wrestle it back to fire a bullet into the Christopher's head.

The bullet lodged and the man was dead, quick and easy.

The Joker passed the gun to Bruce who could only stare at the used weapon, despondent.

"Of course he's the best, but this just adds a list to what he's good at. He really compliments all my bad sides don't you think? So handsome he's beautiful, sweet, heroic-"

"And so sexual," Bruce disarmed the gun. The clicks of guns were overridden in his mind. Bruce turned his head to the mad clown and made eye contact with him only to hear a jealous hiss from the Joker. "Although he makes me mad with jealously."

"Now where was I?" The Joker swung out one leg and spun on the other, "What a waste, bah!"

"He didn't know," not that it would have mattered to the Joker.

"Exactly, I pay people like him to know people." The Joker curled his hand under Bruce's chin. "If you're Matches Malone our dearly departed friend here says you are. You're no stranger to this. That is if this Matches Malone character is real. The guns, the weapons, the killing, well maybe not the killing but you're an expert on some of the other stuff that I suck at."

"Don't look at him, look at me?" The Joker spat on Christopher's corpse, look down at the body in disgust. The way the Joker looked at the man, how much he hated the man. Bruce stepped backwards balled his hands into fist, barely missing another one of the clown's tender, loving touches. "Why you gotta care about everyone Brucie? I really love you! Can't that be the only thing you need? Brucie, Brucie! I'll forgive you only because you only wanted to help."

"I only wanted to save as much lives as I could," Bruce replied in a hard voice.

The Joker's face froze into a wide smile, eyes bright with life and love. "That's my Bruce Wayne. Talented at everything, how did you learn how to do that? You can really learn more than Chinese from being in Asia."

"Well, I had to learn to from somewhere, Joker." Bruce sank against the wall, the man's blood was still fresh and he could smell the copper and flesh. The red smeared behind him as he wiped his eye with the back of his gloved hand, Bruce looked at the weapon in his and pressed his teeth together. "Why did you have to kill them?

"Matches, why do you keep doing this? Trying to save these criminals and these crooked Politian's!" The Joker pushed forward but Bruce rushed away from the laptop that had been sitting on the computer. The Joker tried to touch Bruce in places he had avoided, sexual, desperate hungry grabbing hands. "But I'm happy to see you, it means I don't have to burn down an orphanage, saves me a bomb or two."

"That's okay, I've got one." Bruce pressed a button and his laptop exploded. The destruction the laptop set off two other bombs he had left when he threw out his lunch and food. Bruce pushed past the crowd that slammed to the floor, screaming and sobbing.

Bruce knew he wasn't equipped enough to handle the Joker, turning he saw the Joker standing in the same place despite the bomb detonating nearby.

The Joker wasn't fazed. His eyes were wide like a hyena at the sight of freshly killed flesh, locked onto Bruce like a hungry beast in heat.

o

* * *

tbc


	13. 13 Classic Rose

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Batman not profit with teh moneys from this. But I wrote this fanfic. orz

* * *

**Prison of Pearls**_  
__Classic Rose_  
_CH13_

By Ol' Fighty

* * *

o

Eric watched as the snipers caught people with their bullets running out of the building, the people screamed as they toppled down the steps, limbs crushed under those scrambling and stumbling as they burned from the tossed Molotov's.

Matches grabbed at the hacker's hand, shoving some money into his palms. "Run, leave Gotham. The Joker will kill you, both of you."

The boy didn't react, more shocked then in fear for his life.

"I can't there are-" An explosion rang out. Falling rubble came from the higher buildings, Bruce watched as someone signalled another attack against what looked to be snipers.

"Kid, Chris is dead. You're going to be dead too," the boy before Matches Malone looked bewildered as the young teen looked between his options and back to his new mentor as the realization of his friend's death soon meant his own.

"Malone what did Chris do?"

"Nothing," That was the worst thing, Christopher just found out that he was Bruce Wayne, Christopher spent time with the Joker and it was enough to make him kill the man. "Kid, listen to me Christopher just got iced. You wanna be next?"

The teen shook his head, "no."

"Then let's go." Bruce pushed the teen in front of him, blending into the crowd, hoping they could blend in and stunt the Joker's advance. Bruce could hear the kid's heart beating fast in the teen's frame. Bruce was able to slam through the crowds and take a less used path.

Bruce hissed and took the kid into his arms. The boy was thin and gangly, lighter than most of his equipment. The billionaire barely missed a bullet that would have killed him, he heard and felt it pass him and lodge into someone else's shoulder. Bruce looked up and watched as one of the Joker's men who had bailed with them met a bullet with his head.

"Gottcha!" The Joker tackled his back, Bruce felt his knee's buck but he was able to stabilize and return a hard kick into the clown's leg. The Joker hopped on one foot with a gleeful laugh. "Oof, Matches! You sure play hard to get. The police are here, how about I escort you to your car Matches."

"Now Matches, you're starting to get me mad." Bruce heard the Joker shout behind him, there was still time and space. The kid was stupid to get involved, but Chris and Johnson… Just knowing the kid would be dead… The kid was a loser hacker, a teen. He hadn't even racked up enough sin to deserve death.

"Those were my party plans for the big secret!" The Joker belted from a distance.

"The big secret!" Bruce heard the Joker crow as he shoved the kid into a taxi, "For you to find out or it's not going to be a secret!"

"Get out of the city and don't look back," Matches hissed, tossing more money at the driver. It'd be annoying to withdraw more cash as Bruce Wayne later if that was even possible. He had wanted to keep a low profile in case the police caught him. "To the city outskirts the Joker is coming!"

"You don't have to tell me twice," the driver said, spotting the clown emerging from the alley with the horrified reaction of seeing some sort of monster as. The cab driver floored the gasoline pedal, driving down the street recklessly.

The Joker sauntered up the path to Bruce with love in his eyes, "Don't you want to know what I have planned for Gotham, Matches?"

"Will you let them live?" Bruce replied, turning slowly. The way that the Joker touched his face, so gently, brushing with the back and flats of his fingers over and over again, shushing the billionaires words.

"Really, I only killed Christopher because I only wanted Matches Malone for the bedroom. I mean, you do know I think about you like that." The Joker pulled and repositions his affection's lapels, "you do know that, don't you.

"Uh," Bruce scrunched his eyes together in disgust and incredulous frustration.

"So Matches, I'm here to make a deal with you, you come with me for one night of passion and the rest of your team gets to live and gets their money too!" The Joker leaned forward and nibbled on Bruce's stubble, licking inward and lapping at the mess of hairs and teasing his taste buds with the taste of Matches's manly cologne.

Bruce felt his stomach clench, here he was bartering and carousing with the devil. "Malone what did Chris do?"

"Nothing," That was the worst thing, Chris just found out that he was Bruce Wayne, he spent time with the Joker and it was enough to make him kill the man. "Kid, listen to me Christopher just got iced. You wanna be next?"

"Matches, you are really great aren't you." The Joker spoke in a breathy voice, the voice in his throat rough and sweeping. "You're an expert at everything, even things you haven't tried."

The Joker wrapped his arms around Bruce and held him close, "one night Brucie, it's all it takes.

"Just you and me, the way it's supposed to be." The clown crooned, smelling the shampoo on Matches hair and nuzzling the mystery billionaire like a pussycat. "I wanted to surprise you, but you surprised me. I don't know if I can keep it a secret. I'm just not one that really committed to this kind of thing-I mean I set this all up for us you know?

"You and I, Brucie, Mr. and Mr. Gotham, we'll really change things up." The Joker paused and took a step back, a gentleman all of a sudden. "I have a ring, I just want to do this right by you. I fact, I'll do this again. I'll do right about you, you mother and father will be smiling down from heaven. I just had to look up your family, I mean… Well it's a secret. See you next Saturday, I'm going to propose properly and you can say yes then."

o

* * *

o

When Bruce returned to his post, Harvey was there, newspaper in hand.

Bruce undid his wrist buttons, "Stop acting like I want this, Harvey."

"Do you have a plan?" Harvey stood in front of his office door, weak and frustrated.

Bruce didn't show much emotions on his face when he replied, making Harvey reconsider his opinion of the billionaire once again. "Yes. But you have to do everything I say."

Harvey pointed to his face in surprize and laughed at the face Bruce made for a moment when he realized that Bruce was rolling his eyes at him. "Okay, let's do that again. Me?"

"Who else do you think I am talking to," Bruce hunched his back, looking through his newsfeed about his news. "Harvey, you know Rachel won't leave without me. She needs you."

"Is this some sick way of giving me your blessing?" Harvey took a step forward as Bruce took a step further away to the table and his plans. "Bruce, I… I can't do this. I can't be you or do the things you do."

"You dressed up like Batman once so you're deeper in this than I am," Harvey's face was red as if he were going to go into a tirade about blackmail, Bruce continued. "And I'm not asking you to take on the Joker for me. Gotham is going to fall, but it'll come back one day. I need you to be there. Only you understand as much as I do, Harvey."

"Are you crazy? I've seen those ads and all of your fear tactic media. You're planning something. You're evacuating the city and you're going to stay here with the Joker and then what? Starve! Because the city will be abandoned, there isn't going to be any food or electricity!"

"I can't fight him," Bruce looked down and too in a deep breath before releasing his anxiety with the exhale of air, as if his chest was a pressure cooker. "He wants the city for us, he wants to change Gotham and he wants to marry me."

Harvey' mouth opened and closed.

Bruce sat in his chair and pulled his legs under his desk.

"I know the same sex bill got passed because the Joker hijacked city hall and forced the motion," Harvey paced to the right, "the Joker wants to marry you so much that he worked the system to make it legal in Gotham, that's insane. He's insane, did you say yes."

Bruce shook his head. The last Wayne eyed his plan in the drawer and shut it before Harvey noticed. "Look Harvey, you just need to listen to my plan."

Harvey turned left on his toe. "You want me and Rachel to abandon Gotham because you can't protect the city and its citizens anymore, that's not much of a plan. I was expecting more from you Mr. Wayne. Like I don't know… Something that will save this city-that will let us win. I don't want to abandon Gotham."

"Gotham will never be empty. You think it's going to be abandoned." Bruce slouched and sighed, shuffling in his seat. "There are those who have nowhere else to go and those people still need to be protected. Even if the Joker gets away again after I put him behind bars, I need to know you and Rachel are safe. He'll come after you two first. If not you for dressing up as Batman, but because he's the jealous kind and no, I didn't tell him either."

Harvey ran his fingers over his eyelids, massaging the stress from his upper face and the bridge of his nose. "This is crazy."

"I haven't had time to run all the tests. I need you to read this," Bruce retrieved the folder and shoved his plan into Harvey's hands.

"What is this?" Harvey looked at the manual Bruce passed him and blinked. "What? You're going off on this suicide mission and taking on the Joker and it's supposed to be all okay. You're so nonchalant about this, you seriously expect me to be a driver for this thing too! This invention shouldn't technically exist. Bruce, are you listening to me?"

"It's not finished either," Harvey sputtered at Bruce's calm addition. "I thought something like this maybe might happen, anyway thanks for being a good friend. I'm counting on you to do the right thing. It'll help Rachel and we both need to protect her."

"Thanks for being a good friend," Harvey's eyes softened and he wiped the corners, "don't say that yet. I'll think of something. But I'm," the blonde man slapped the manual down onto Bruce's desk, "I'm not going to accept this. Making everyone leave Gotham so you and the Joker can tear each other like Godzilla and Ghidrah[**1**] you can forget about my help! I'm going to think up a plan and I'm going to save you and this city."

Bruce looked down into his folded hands and sighed.

o

* * *

_tbc_

* * *

**_Author's Notes:_**  
When I started writing Prison of Pearls I told myself I wanted to write the fanfiction equivalent of Commando. I hope that I can plow through the middle chapters faster. I get stuck and forget names and events a lot so I apologize. It's the main reason why it taking so long lately.

I accidentally started to call Christopher Charlie in the last chapter. Christopher is Christopher and Christopher is dead. This has been corrected.

[**1**] _**Ghidrah **_is a monster that Godzilla and Mothra team up to fight. This was the first movie featuring Godzilla I watched as a child. I liked Ghidrah but I also liked Rodan, Mothra was very cute as well.


	14. 14 Silver Bullet

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Batman not profit with teh moneys from this. But I wrote this fanfic. orz

* * *

**Prison of Pearls**_  
__Silver Bullet_  
_CH14_

By Ol' Fighty

* * *

**_this is speed written so that this part can be passed through to get to the other chapters_**

**_sorry, editing later ;-;_****_  
_**

* * *

o

"Every time you act like I'm going to my funeral," the billionaire didn't bother to turn. He knew the man behind him was Harvey Dent, there was no one else.

It was hard to pick out a suit without the old butler, especially on a day like today.

The absence of Alfred drained Bruce, but he slept an hour extra despite it. Work had both gotten busy yet slowed down, there wasn't much work as Bruce had been slowly shifting work to outside cities. People were either with Wayne Industries relocating to other cities with those jobs or quitting or not coming into work without a word. Gotham was becoming more and more of a ghost town.

A wandering hand adjusted his cuff and Bruce turned, looking primed and groomed. "How do I look?"

The suit was perfectly black, modern, yet bore the slick regal nature of a film noir gentleman.

Harvey's appearance didn't surprised Bruce, his physical appearance was ghastly. The man wasn't even dressed properly, straw coloured hair oily and mussed. His shirt was so wrinkled it was pleated. His purple shirt clashed with his teddy bear brown pants, the bottom of the shirt tucked in lazily.

"He's not worth it," Harvey replied in a low tone, his sad tired eyes were heavy with lack of sleep.

The dark haired man fussed with his tie, "so I look good."

Harvey lunged, grabbing Bruce's wrist hard, pulling Bruce into his chest.

"I have a date," the Joker would probably be displeased and throw a building burning fit if Harvey stole him away. It was bad timing, especially when the clown was nervous from… Bruce yanked his arm closed to his chest, but Harvey's grasp was strong. "I can't…"

"We don't need you to sacrifice your life Bruce," Harvey pleaded, "you should have never been put in the position to. I never realized how important you are…"

"Wayne Industries-" Before he could continue, Harvey was shouting.

"Bruce! What the hell are you saying?" Harvey waved an arm for emphasis, "Not just Wayne Industries, you're important to Gotham. You're important to everyone in this city. YOU ARE THIS CITY."

Bruce shook his head and stepped towards the exit, opening the door and looking up to some familiar suits. The police presence didn't surprise Bruce either, somber faces as if they were escorting him to the gates of hell.

"Commissioner Jack Grogan," Harvey nodded at the stern looking man. Bruce looked on as the Gotham cops flanked either side of Harvey and surrounded the Wayne heir.

It didn't take an idiot to realize that they were breaking the elevator occupancy as all of them stepped into the elevator after Bruce. The men were well armoured for a long, long fight. Each man had several weapons on his back and one even had a grenade launcher.

"We're actually your escort," Jack Grogan said with some mirth, "think as me as your daddy at prom."

Harvey smiled and nodded at Bruce, "you like my plan?"

"Harvey, that's the worst plan I've ever heard…" Bruce sighed and rested his back against the elevator wall.

Someone hit the button, Bruce zoned out after that.

The elevator.

The task force.

Jack Grogan.

Everyone in the small space they inhabited was compromised. Bruce needed to make his own break, continue HIS plan and not deviate onto Harvey Dent's half-baked scheme. Bruce bit his lip thinking of the Joker.

He felt his phone vibrate for a moment and read the text:

**_{ Time to get down, honey. 3 :) ! }_**

Grabbing Dent, Bruce pulled the man to the floor hearing the door open. The men couldn't open fire behind their bullet proof shield, Jack Grogan hissed as he hit the button for the door to close twice.

Bruce pushed Dent away and hit the emergency code into a device his pocket, forcing the elevator doors to close. He reached into his breast pocket for the right button and pressed down, the lights flickered before they died.

"The elevator is still moving," Harvey hissed, digging into Bruce's arm in the dark.

"Relax," Bruce steadied his voice, "I built this building."

"Where does it go?" Jack Grogan asked nervously.

"Fourth basement," Bruce replied cheekily.

"Sir, this building only has two basements."

The bottom hit the metal hard, permanently out of service.

Jack Grogan could be heard shuffling again, "and where does that go?"

"Sewers."

The doors opened and Bruce turned, grabbing a battered shield from a police officer close to the exit. He turned the shield to the cops encroaching upon him.

He had to move quickly, any one of them could signal back to the Joker.

Anyone of them already compromised.

The sewers were poorly lit. The city was old and filled with catacomb and tunnels. Perfect for a man who prided himself on being Batman, Bruce took a back into the wet mush.

Bruce moved quickly, the urgency to break from the police heavy, to escape from Harvey. He needed to continue as planned. He looked at the police officer at the back, pale and sweating. Him. With a flick of a hand, the smoke canister set off and poured from its opening.

Bruce ran with the shield on his back, eyes closed, ignoring the smell and the resistance of the sewer's dank ground.

He looked up for the single light.

"Now: One, two, three," Bruce counted. He stuck his left foot to feel for the left turn when his voice reached sixty-seven making for to drop another gas canister on his fiftieth step and tossing his shield. He turned sharply, still blinded by the smoke. "One, two, three, four-"

One hundred twenty steps, hit the ladder go up. Thirty-four, turn right. Then run until the dead end, make sure to stop. Bruce looked down at the flowing water under foot. The water flowed to the outside but not many people knew that. It was also the only grate that connected to the outside.

He leaned forward and pulled the grate free, rolling it right and then rolling it back securely once he passed through. The smoke was still rolling past him but he was outside now. Bruce stood on the ledge of the tunnel, making sure his make shift steps were still in place.

Without hesitation his scaled the sided and pulled himself over the fence, shook his head. A couple eyed him warily, the blonde woman tugging on her husband's sleeve. Bruce smiled, raising and hand as he entered his car and drove away.

Bruce looked at the digital time, fifteen minutes from the Joker's last text.

"Good time, Bruce."

a

* * *

o

[Notes:  
** /speakers/**  
**background noise on speakers**]

**/Good evening people of Gotham, we are gathered here./**

**The Joker licked his lips. There was a ratatat of bullets and an explosion.**

Regardless Bruce jumped to the next building.

**the music sounded like something that sounded like romantic. It took a moment for him to recognize Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley.**

It took a while to change shoes, mostly to wash his feet and change his pants into another matching pair. Bruce was careful to approach the fire fight, shuffling the important bag on his shoulder.

The street was a war zone. Police versus guerilla clowns with a myriad of weapons, the Joker's forces were the bored, indifferent. Different layers of class and criminal layered onto one another. People were naked, drunk and high on some toxin that had to be the Scarecrow's doing. Bruce breathed carefully through his ventilated mask.

A hidden woman from the building to the right looked up at him with a gasp and held her children closer.

Bruce saluted before running and gliding across the expanse upwards to the next building with his temporary wings.

Fully suiting up was more dangerous, some core components and overall he was just a man in a suit with some gear. Barely even Batman. His appearance was more of a well-dressed thrill, seeking billionaire with issues, looking for trouble and the occasional spelunking across the city.

He gripped the ledge with his gloves and scuttled over the edge pulling his body up. Bruce looked down as colourful humans fought the police with a mix of coloured smoke bombs and actual bombs. He pulled out his binoculars and screened the area, the Joker stood on a well-defended float beside some sort of tent city. The float was covered in flowers of all sorts with gas seeping out from beneath, low to the ground.

Bruce moved across the roof tops, towards the back of the highest tent. He would get the Joker from behind.

** /Hey Jiminy Cricket Gordon! I thought I squashed you!/** **The Joker cackled madly, coughing and then letting bullets fly into the fire.**

**The booming audio of Gordon's voice rang back, "It's gonna take a lot more than that!" An explosion sounded, as did some laughter from the Joker's side.**

Bruce was pretty close now, fist to fist with the Joker's own men. He wrestled each one, rendering them unconscious or knocking them out before they saw him with stealth. Without a breath, Bruce leaped onto the tent top, cutting through the fabric before he made a dent.

**/Well lucky you, I'm very charitable when it comes to your death./**

Bruce barely caught onto a rope, easing himself down unto a ledge on the tent's metal infrastructure. The men had not noticed his entry as the tent was a hell scape of sound and action. Bruce watched a lone guard patrolled underneath him, ready to drop down and disarm him. The Joker's voice boomed out of every stereo and sound system available in the strange circus tent he had breached. Bruce pulled the headset off of his head and crushed the unnecessary sound device under his hand.

**/And I got a lot to give. So I'll strike you a deal, you give me Bats and I won't dismember you alive./**

**"Why would Batman work with you when he could work with us?" Came Jim Gordon's voice through a crackle.**

Bruce looked up at the screen of Jimmy as the man he fell down on crumpled in his hold, the police had a good vantage point but they were neither moving nor progressing.

Bruce was exactly where he wanted to be.

**He walked up to the side briskly and cut the side of the tent open.**

**/BATS? You and Jimmy! This is like my worst nightmare! Don't tell me you love him more than me! Bats! How could you! We were supposed to get married!/**

Bruce pulled the satchel on his shoulder off. With quick movements he opened his bag pressed the button inside before sliding across the ground and sending it toppling over the edge and onto the platform. The bag slid across the outside of the tent, toppling over the floral displays of the float and crashed into the Joker's heel.

The man hopped before giving it an offensive look.

The Joker looked up, leering at the place where the satchel had come from.

"Jimminy cricket, what's the smell. I'm going to-" the Joker looked furious, absolutely livid. "Pass out."

The Joker wobbled, scrabbling for something in his jacket. His men were already on their knees, hitting the ground quickly. He leered up at Bruce once more, but collapsed with a smile on his face regardless.

a

* * *

o

"This is pretty awkward isn't it?" Jim Gordon's arm was around the younger man's shoulder as Bruce pulled the semi-injured man to quiet. Bruce felt another hand pat his free shoulder as he passed through the city.

The four hours of chaos that ensued were nightmarish, without the Joker to order them around the various strongholds' the Joker held and took camp began to destroy the parts of the city they inhabited. Bruce cut through to the flat in that time and captured the unconscious Joker, forcing a full surrender over the sound system.

While parts of the city began to whimper as the fight to reclaim it began to win, the fight was ongoing and would not end until morning. It was not a fight Bruce could fight, so he gathered Jim and those on the front lines and made sure his prisoner was secured.

"Well, this is my life." Bruce's monotone was followed with a blank smirk.

"Thanks Bruce. You grew into quite a man, your parents would be proud." Jim looked at Bruce, but so no emotional response. "Gotham survived, my marriage died, but my ex-wife and children are still alive."

"Maybe, sometime in the future, maybe we could grab a coffee."

"I'd like that," Bruce was careful not to enter any police car, scrambling to avoid those that approached him and pulling Jim into the shadow with a stern silence as another rolled pass. Jim looked at the vehicle and back at Bruce, "good to have you back."

"Bruce, they just made me Commissioner. I don't know how to feel."

"Congrats on the big promotion," Bruce found his waiting car and opened the passenger seat, lowering Gordon inside.

"Bruce, you've done a service to Gotham. I'm glad that you are on our side."

Bruce gave the older man a cold look before shutting the side door and moving to the driver's side.

Jim awkwardly buckled himself in and waited for Bruce to start the engine.

"I'm not Batman, Jim."

"But…"

"But I'm his biggest supporter. I couldn't let all my private funding go to waste if Batman was to be captured."

"Bruce," Jim looked away from Bruce's intense gaze of the road.

"It's going to take a while to restore the people's obliviousness, but they'll forget."

"The Joker is being executed later today, it will be publically broadcasted live for Gotham and later rebroadcasted for the world." Bruce sighed at Jim's words.

There was no traffic, no lights. Only a dark road with barely any lights to see the pathway if not for the lights of Bruce's car, "I'm disappointed, but it has to be done. He's a mad dog. You and Gotham will be safer for it."

"Bruce, are you going to be okay?" Jim paused. "The Joker held you prisoner, he probably made you watch and do things that will haunt you… No one would fault you if you needed-"

"You don't have to tell me that," Bruce looked left and back to the street ahead.

Bruce cocked his eyebrow, he pause resting his fingertips on the top of his dashboard while he steered. "Bruce you can stop trying to stop him?"

"I can't."

a

* * *

o

"Rachel."

"I still want you in on this, follow the plan."

"Bruce, you can't think…" Rachel spun on her heel. Jim Gordon had gone missing. Rachel was on her way over when she heard the message on the radio, hearing the new made her rush faster.

"The Joker is as good as dead. He's being put down tonight. He's killed to many people. The Joker can't be anything but put down. I'd feel bad for him if he wasn't such a murderous jackass, I can't imagine how you feel…"

Rachel's eyes dilated as Harvey rushed forward, Bruce held the cloth to Rachel's mouth carefully. Bruce allowed the woman to crumple into him carefully.

"Don't tell Rachel." Harvey sputtered and Bruce moved to another room with the woman he loved. "Promise me you won't tell her. This is something I need to take to the grave with me, but if something happens I need at least someone to know."

"Promise you won't tell Rachel or anyone, what?" Harvey scrambled after Bruce, following him into a literal crack in the wall.

"The Joker is in love with me," the face that the district attorney bore was one of disgust.

There was no more shocking Harvey Dent-but the concept itself was... Unnerving, but Bruce was animated and walked ahead of Harvey down the path with determination.

After a couple of seconds, Harvey regained his composure enough to follow Bruce from behind again into the narrow passage. "No shit, Sherlock. You mean he's actually seriously in love with you. Not the type of admirer I'd want Bruce. You don't love him, do you?"

Bruce looked down at Rachel in his arms.

He had loved Rachel.

He wanted to marry Rachel, but that was something that being Batman had also taken away from him. Bruce looked back up at Harvey Dent. The blonde was starting to believe that he did love the Joker and the disappointment was already on Harvey's face. "Harvey, what do you think?"

The Joker loved Bruce. Gotham was still going up in flames despite the Joker being in jail. People were rioting, they didn't feel safe. People fled Gotham in hoards, leaving pets and the elderly without care.

"I really don't know," Harvey looked around the poorly lit room, scanning for any idea where Bruce was heading. Where he was even heading, because where Rachel was going so was he. "You know yourself and the Joker better than anyone, and I bet you know the Joker better than he knows himself."

"That's the problem, I understand the Joker a lot more than I want to know." Bruce continued. "You don't understand how much that madman loves me Harvey. He loves me enough to destroy all of Gotham. You I've learned too much about him. You know what he said to me?

"He said what do you get for the man who has everything? Who can do anything, who can be anyone he wants? How do you get his attention?" Bruce had everything anyone but him could want for in life, but his parents were dead, his city was in tatters and corruption and crime was taking over the city his parents died trying to change.

Johnson was right, Bruce was rich, but the problems he had were equivalent to those riches.

The Joker's pursuit of making Bruce his lover wasn't something the Wayne heir really reflected on because the thought itself was terrifying and horrible. The knowledge was upsetting enough. The clown's inability to provide for Bruce was increasing the maniac's insanity.

The Joker was possessive, Christopher was killed because he was attracted to Matches Malone and Matches Malone was Bruce Wayne, when he learned of Bruce's duality he was killed.

The clown had orchestrated and passed a law allowing same sex couples to marry, just so he could propose to Bruce Wayne on television. The madman's devotion ran deep,

"Bruce, you're really starting to scare me."

"But until the Joker dies you're not coming back. It's not safe." Harvey struggled to follow Bruce who flowed through the loose, thick cables. "I still don't think that it's right that he gets the death penalty, Harvey."

Harvey shook his head, the way Bruce was acting… The Joker had been behind bars for several days. "Bruce, he tore half this city apart, he deserves the death penalty. Why do you get to stay and watch the Joker die while we have to leave."

"It's not good enough for me… It's not my kind of justice Dent."

Harvey stared at him, daring him to tell him about justice and to tell him about the Joker...

"But I have to see it through, I turned him in. I have to watch the Joker die."

"You want to be there for him," Harvey's head raised with what Bruce was… He did a double-take, "just because he loves you, god that sound weird."

"It's not over, it's not over until the Joker is put down, I'm against it but there's nothing I can do." Bruce wrung his hands and looked to Rachel's sleeping form.

"The Joker is crazy in love with you, Bruce! You can't go into a situation like that! Damn it all to hell!"

"Would it be a bad time to tell you that I need you to do something extra?"

"Oh no Bruce," Harevy shook his head at the sight of Jim Gordon.

"He's going to wake up tonight."

Bruce opened the vehicle and lowered Rachel into the passenger seat as the driver's side was already occupied.

"Bruce, that's Commissioner Gordon!" The newly instated Commissioner was already lying down, strapped down next to where Bruce was pulling the restraints over Rachel. Bruce buckled Rachel in, adjusting the pillow under her neck. "Are you crazy? It doesn't matter if you helped put the Joker behind bars! You can't do this! You'll go to jail! You're kidnaping people Bruce!"

"I need to give Rachel another sedative. She'll wake up in four hours. The car will be on auto-pilot when you turn it on… Alfred will know what to do."

It was almost fun to give Harvey the run around, watch him panic. "Lex has got him occupied, it seems like the Joker has more friends than we think."

"Lex Luthor, that Lex Luthor?" The fact that Luthor was involved, Harvey's head whirled with the information being dumped into his brain.

Lex Luthor was a rich man that was synonymous with being an asshole. The lawsuits against him over crimes, dangerous science experiments and murder got squashed before they hit the news, Lex Luthor knew how to be an asshole and if he didn't have the time, he had the lawyers.

To think the Joker was friends enough with Lex Luthor that the man would personally take on an apparently real alien was amazing. "Woah, this is getting complicated."

"Shouldn't you be trying to stop him?"

Bruce grabbed Harvey's arm and looked him dead in the eye. "Tell Rachel I said goodbye."

"You tell her when we get back okay?" Harvey stopped fighting and watched at Bruce sealed him into the vehicle and locked the door from the outside. "You're going to go watch the Joker die now?"

"It's not over," Bruce added. "I can feel it."

"You can't save the Joker." Harvey shouted from the glass, Bruce was already walking to his laptop to punch in the order. "Bruce, tell me you don't have Stockholm's syndrome."

"I don't Harvey, because I don't want this. I don't feel sorry for him at all." The man was insane. Being in love had only pushed that insanity to its limit to the point where the Joker snapped. "But I want to be there for him when he dies."

Bruce didn't turn when he heard the tires screech and take off without a driver.

o

* * *

_tbc_

* * *

**_Author's Notes:_**

Poor Harvey Dent, he's like "OH MY GOD! The Joker is in love with Bruce Wayne, this is so terrible. Now Lex Luthor is involved and Bruce is being paranoid and thinks the Joker is going to escape his execution! Bruce don't go and die!"

And Bruce is all like, get on the damn ship. Harvey, listen to me, stay on the damn vehicle. Don't get off the damn car. Don't come back until the Joker d—Harvey, you're not on the car.

I'm starting to make this fanfic go to levels of great implausibility, YA THINK!

It's a romp and I'm enjoying it. If only I had more time to write sexier stuff and details, that is my only regret in Prison of Pearls. This chapter was the hardest one to write that it wasn't even full written and other chapters that come after ARE! So if it's "blank" in some parts, that's why. This chapter is 4, 392 words. _ ;;


End file.
